Page 92 of Conveniently Wed
She attempted to reach to the horse’s back, but her foot caught in her skirt and there was no way she could pull herself up on the large animal without help or a stepping block.
“Emma, go!”
She slapped the horse’s rump at the same moment that a yellow square of lamplight shone on them, lighting Fran’s form and the horse’s backside.
Blessedly, Emma remained in shadow as the horse thundered away into the night. Fran prayed it ran fast and right to Edgar.
“Hey!” an unknown male voice called out.
She lifted her skirts and ran. The long grasses clung to her.
She could hear the loud huffs of someone, several someones following her.
There was nowhere to hide. In the open prairie, there were no trees or bushes.
She was disoriented, trying to remember in which direction the cattle were located.
She dared not call out. What if Underhill’s men had done something to Edgar and the cowboys? If she made too much noise, it would be a beacon for the men behind her to find her.
Her breaths came in gasps. She tried to stifle them, trying with all her might to be silent as she ran through the night.
“Get her!” came a shout from behind—closer than before?
Could she just lie down in the grass? What would keep the men from finding her?
She kept running, desperate.
Where were Edgar’s cowboys? Surely she should have run right into them by now?
Lungs burning, mind spinning, she cried out when someone grabbed her arm and twisted it brutally.
“Gotcha now, girl,” said an angry, huffing voice.
She struggled, jerking and kicking and spitting. Trying everything she could to get away.
She connected with something—the man’s shin maybe?—and his hold loosened. She ripped her arm away, and tried to run again, but smacked into a hard body. A second man.
She screamed as loudly as she could.
Until a dirty hand clapped over her mouth. “No one close enough to hear ya, missy,” said a smooth, cold voice.
She struggled again, but it was no use. One of them cruelly yanked her arm behind her back, sending a spike of pain up through her shoulder and making her cry out, the sound muffled behind the hand blocking her breathing.
“She ain’t going nowhere,” the man holding her grunted. “What about the other one?”
“She wasn’t at the wagon. Abe thought he saw a boy rushing away on a horse. Hard to see in the dark.”
“Let’s go see if Abe caught up to the kid, then.”
Fran struggled frantically as they dragged her back toward the wagon.
Thoughts screaming,she couldn’t find air and the edges of her vision began to blacken.
Emma. Did Emma get away?
16
The sky was slate gray when Edgar startled awake.
