Frontier Courtship by Valerie Hansen

least hunting shirts the way the real Indians do in foul weather.”
    The heavier man grunted his disapproval. “Shut up, old man. He let us keep our long pants, didn’t he? Stop your complaining or I’ll shoot you on the spot and leave your sorry carcass for the buzzards when I dump the woman.”
    “I don’t think we should keep doin’ this for Tucker,” Ab whined. “Trouble comes, you know he ain’t goin’ to fess up. We’ll be stuck payin’ for his crimes.”
    “Not me. I got enough on Tucker to see he rots in some stinkin’ prison like the one I seen once in Yuma. Man, it was hot there.”
    “Don’t talk about hot.” Ab’s teeth were chattering. “It reminds me of Hell, where you and I are probably goin’ fer doin’ this. How far do we have to ride, anyways?”
    “Couple a more miles.” He glanced at the slicker-covered bundle across Ab’s saddle. “You said she was comin’ to. She ain’t moving much.”
    “Quit about as soon as she started. Probably fainted. You know women.”
    Stuart chortled. “Yeah. If we wasn’t on a job here, I’d sure like to see if that one’s as good as she looks.”

     
    Horrified and dismayed, Faith held her breath, biting her lip to keep from crying out every time Ab’s horse took a step. The saddle horn was pressing into her stomach, thank goodness, but her sore ribs got a painful jolt at every stride just the same.
    They were going to kill her. That was evident. She’d been a fool to think she was safe simply because she was in the emigrant company. Clearly, a nefarious man like Ramsey Tucker was not above kidnapping her to implement his scheme to get to Charity.
    Cautiously, she tried to wiggle her fingers. Ropes held her wrists fast. The same with her ankles. When they’d secured her, they’d apparently looped the rope under the horse’s belly because when she tugged the bindings on her wrists, the pressure on her legs increased.
    Her mind whirling, Faith tried to reason through the panic that was eating away her ability to think logically. The voices of her captors were all too familiar, yet perhaps that could work to her advantage. From what little she’d heard, it sounded like Ab was the least committed to her demise. Perhaps, if she prayed hard enough, God would make Ab speak up and give her a chance to plead for her life before it was too late.
    She held her breath. Dear Lord! They were stopping! Tied facedown she couldn’t see much, but it was evident the men were dismounting. In seconds she was loosened, pulled from the saddle and released to fall painfully onto the soggy ground. That was the last straw. Unable to keep quiet any longer, she cried out in agony.
    “She’s awake!” Stuart shouted. “Get your gun on her.”
    “What gun?” Ab started to laugh like he was crazy in the head. “In case you ain’t noticed, there’s no room for a holster or a pistol in these danged costumes.”
    “Then hit her over the head with a rock.”
    “You hit her,” Ab argued. “You’re the one who likes that kind of thing.”
    “I never said that.”
    “Then why wouldn’t you help me save Miss Irene?”
    “’Cause Tucker’d a killed me if she’d a got away, that’s why.”
    Ab continued to cackle as if he’d taken leave of his senses. “Then you’d best get ready to meet your maker ’cause that little gal is alive and well.”
    Stuart shouted a string of curses.
    Lying in the mud at his feet, Faith began to give thanks for what she’d just learned. Now, if she could only escape, she could take word to her friend Hawk that his future bride was all right.
    It was also a relief to hear that the men were unarmed, since the Colt was still snug in its military holster beneath her black slicker. The trick would be reaching it and using it to defend herself before her kidnappers figured out she had a gun.
    She snaked her right arm inside the oilcloth while she tried hard to keep the rest of her body from moving. The dark, rainy night helped