Page 21 of Chloe's Christmas Escape
“I think it is, Miss...”
The crack of wood on skin echoed through the coach, eliciting a loud shout from the man. Chloe jumped and her eyes cut to the woman on the other side of her bench. She tightly gripped the shepherd’s hook, its purpose shifting from a simple tool to a powerful weapon.
“The girl said that she did not know you and that was not her name. Leave her be,” the older woman admonished the stranger. The young girl between them reached out to hold Chloe’s hand in comfort as the man receded back into the shadows. She could still feel him watching her.How was she going to tell Jackson there was trouble inside the coach?
“Oak Park coming up fast! Oak Park!”
The shouting from the driver rang out, and a couple across from Chloe began gathering their things. If they were disembarking, that would leave only the man she’d seen at the docks and the three women inside. Maybe he would disembark as well.
She sent up a silent prayer.Thank you, Lord, for your provision.
The man leaned in close to Chloe, his lips pursed into a tight line as he leaned forward. His breath was hot and stale on her face, and she felt his spit hit her skin as he hissed at her in barely a whisper. “We are getting off in Oak Park. Just you and me. If you fight me, I’ll put a hole in that little girl. Do you understand me?”
Chloe sized up the man, noticing his hardened face as he seemed to size her up as well. He appeared on edge, shifting his gaze between the three of them. She knew she could never outrun him if he attacked, but her husband had left her with strict instructions to remain still should that ever happen. She could feel the tension radiating off him as he glared at her and then shifted his attention to her traveling bag, which she had placed on the little girl’s lap beside her. Her journals, which were tucked inside, could provide some protection if things escalated. The man didn’t have a reason to harm the child, but Chloe wasn’t sure that mattered.
“Oak Park!”
The stage jolted as it came to an abrupt halt, and the door flew open. Chloe stumbled into the street, propelled by a strong shove from behind. Something solid and warm wrapped tightly around her arms, bringing her to an abrupt stop. Her eyes widened with recognition; there was no mistaking that grip. It belonged to Jackson.
“What is happening here?” he demanded.
“My wife and I are getting off here.” The man from the waterfront reached for Chloe’s arm.
She took a deep breath, inhaling Jackson’s scent, trying to commit it to memory. Shaking her head lightly against his chest, she hoped he would understand her meaning. She didn’t want anyone else to get hurt.
“I see.” Jackson stepped back, and the stranger yanked Chloe back to him. “Enjoy your stay in Oak Park.”
Chloe stumbled as the man grabbed her arm and pulled her forward. He moved quickly, sprinting down a long alleyway with Chloe in tow. Panic set in as she realized he was trying to kidnap her, and any chance of escaping seemed futile as they moved further away from Jackson and the stagecoach.
A chill ran down her spine as the sound of a heavy steel hammer being pulled back with a metallic click broke the silence. Every instinct screamed at her to turn around and face the danger, but she kept jogging to keep up, her heart pounding in her ears.
Breathe in, breathe out, fall.The wind whispered in her ear.Now. It urged.
Chloe felt the reverberations of the gunshot through her body as her legs gave way. The force of the shot sent her captor flying until his face slammed into the dirt right before her. She gasped at the sight of his blood splattering across her cheek and a fleeting moment of hysterical laughter escaped her lips. Trying to regain control, Chloe pried herself free from beneath him and kneeled before her stomach heaved.
Four. Four bodies in three weeks.
At least she knew why this one was dead. He wouldn’t be hurting anyone else.
Heavy footsteps thudded across the dirt. “Marshal?” the driver’s voice quavered as dust billowed around him.
“Can someone run and get the sheriff?” Jackson shouted as he gathered Chloe in his arms.
“I’m all right,” she muttered, letting him fuss over her for a moment. “He is dead, yes?”
“What’s the meaning of this?” A portly man came into view, and Chloe pulled back.
“I’ll handle this. You go wash your face. There is a small relay station where we stopped.” Jackson turned her, sending her back toward the stage. “U.S. Marshal Jackson Masters.”
“Sheriff Tom Swirly. Is there a reason you’re killing men in my town, Marshal?”
“Abduction is usually a good reason, but I think this one goes a little deeper. You’ll need to wait for my wife’s statement, of course.”
“I can talk to him now,” Chloe stopped, turning back.
“I said go wash your face first, wife.”
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and kept her eyes on the ground, knowing that if he was this angry, it was best to do as she was told. His veins bulged under his skin and his voice seemed to reverberate in the air. She scurried to the stage where the woman with the shepherd’s hook stood with an old cloth rag in one hand, lightly drenched in cool water.
