Page 76 of Betrayal from Beyond
Kara shook her head. “No!” she said in surprise.
“What is it, then? What’d you give ’em?”
He gave her a shake to make her answer.
“It’s just opium. They are only asleep.”
“Oh, she ain’t gonna like that,” the other man breathed.
“She’ll be spittin’ mad,” the driver agreed. “But for once, she won’t be aiming it in our direction.”
“But what do we do?” The big man was looking decidedly nervous. “She wanted everything loaded up and out of here. You heard her.” He gave a grimace. “Someone’s coming. The police? The government? We cannot let them find us here with all of this.” He waved a hand toward the crates. “If they don’t hang us, then she’ll strangle us with her bare hands.”
The driver rubbed his chin. “Well, I suppose we just do as we were told. We’ll load everything up and take it into Town.”
“But what about the boss lady? And him?” The other man gestured toward the ceiling.
“Ah. Well.” The driver hesitated. “I know—get these crates loaded, then throw some of that hay back in the cart. We’ll lay them out in the straw and cover them with their cloaks and deliver them, along with the goods.”
“All right, then. I s’pose it’s the best we can do, considerin’.” He looked at Kara. “But what about her?”
The driver drew a deep breath. “She’s got a length of rope on her. Use it. Tie her to the chair, while I think about it.” Pulling the rope from around her shoulders, he shoved them both over.
The big man sat her in a chair and set about restraining her. He knew what he was about, unfortunately, thwarting her efforts to keep the knots loose. The last horseshoe, tucked into the small of her back, pressed against her. She didn’t mention it.
The driver nailed the crates shut. When they had both finished, they lifted a crate together and maneuvered it out and toward the front door.
Kara immediately went to work, trying to get free. It wasn’t easy, but at least he had tied her hands to each side of the chair instead of together, behind her back. She was able to use her fingers to grab her skirts and bunch them up until she could slip her fingers into a pocket. It took several tries before she managed to get a grip on the tiny, folded razor tucked inside, and several more before she got it flipped open.
Turner had gifted her the small blade for her birthday. Sending up silent thanks, she had to do some very careful maneuvering, but managed to aim the blade toward the length of rope attached to the chair—without slicing her fingers. Working carefully, she started sawing at the rope.
It didn’t take long before the men came back for the second crate. She hid the blade beneath a fold of her skirt and tried to look innocent.
The driver paused a moment, looking between the box, Petra, and her. “It’s not all going to fit,” he said to himself.
“Let’s load it and see,” his partner said.
They departed again, and Kara sawed frantically, but it was slow going. She could not add any pressure to her cuts and had to rely on the sharpness of the blade.
“This is all your fault,” she said to Petra, still asleep on the floor near the sofa. “Why could you not use all of your gifts in ways to improve the world instead of trying to destroy it?”
At last she made it through. Frantically, she cut her other hand free and started on her feet.
She wasn’t fast enough. The men came back through the kitchen before she managed even to cut loose her first foot.
“Well, damn it to hell.” The driver strode in and snatched away the razor.
With a silent curse, she swung at him and tried to stand, but with her feet still held fast to the chair, she was out of balance and unable to move. The driver merely gave her a push to knock her back into it.
“What are we going to do with her?” the other man asked. “We can’t trust her. She’s wily.”
“She won’t fit in the back with the others unless we stack them like sardines.”
“The boss lady won’t like that.”
“She’ll like it less if she finds out that we had her and let her get away.” The driver rubbed a hand across his brow. “You’ve heard the boss ranting. This one must be one of those nobs she holds such a grudge against.”
“So let’s not tell her. She don’t ever need to know we even seen the woman.”
