Once Upon a Mail Order Bride - Linda Broday Page 0,115

happen now, let’s get it over with.” She desperately worked at the ropes binding her hands, as she had been doing all along. But they still refused to loosen even slightly.

“And the fire of God came down from heaven!” Ezekiel yanked her violently to her feet and dragged her to the homemade cross, the width of which could support her. “Lay down on it,” he snarled.

“No.”

His fingernails dug into the tender flesh of her arm. “I. Said. Lay. Down.”

Before she could form a reply, he shoved her backward onto the rough boards and sat his full weight on her. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t see.

“Call me Messiah,” he ordered, his nose touching hers, his breath foul, and the hate emanating from him rolling over her in waves. “Say it!”

“You haven’t the power to make me lie. You will never be the most holy. Not even close.”

Ezekiel whipped the hood from her head and she stared into the face of a man who’d clearly gone mad. The rage pouring off him terrified her.

Where was Ridge? He’d vowed to come after her if she got taken. He always kept his promises. Though Addie’s mouth was parched, she worked her tongue. “I hate you more than I thought I could ever hate anyone. You’re evil.”

His rage exploded. He landed a right fist to her jaw, followed by the left to her throat. Excruciating pain shattered inside her and spread through her body. She couldn’t breathe. Her lungs refused to take in air. For several long moments, she gasped and struggled to keep the stars twinkling at the edge of her vision from closing into utter blackness.

When she was able to drag in air and blink away the darkness, she realized she was being stretched, her joints crying in agony. Ezekiel had untied her wrists only to lash her hands, arms, and legs tightly to the cross. Her shoulders were on fire, and she wondered if he’d pulled them from their sockets. Immense pain blinded her. She couldn’t move when he dragged her, bumping over the uneven ground, to the wagon bed and propped the symbol of Christianity against the wooden gate. Now that her full weight rested on her ankles, Addie screamed with the unbearable pain.

Through it all, her mother never moved a muscle, never seemed to blink.

Maybe Ingrid Jancy had gone as mad as Ezekiel. His cross erected, he calmly reached for a second full bottle of whiskey and guzzled it.

Oh God, where was Ridge?

A few minutes later, Ezekiel staggered to the dilapidated shack, ripped off more boards, and built a fire, after which he must’ve remembered Ingrid. “You may get down from the wagon now, Wife!” he yelled, raising the bottle again to his lips.

Silently, her mother climbed down and moved stiffly to the fire as though she were a puppet carved from wood. After a while, with no mention of food, both Addie’s parents laid down on opposite sides of the fire.

Don’t sleep tonight, her mother had whispered.

Addie didn’t know what that meant, but she had no intention of closing her eyes. A prayer on her lips, she went to work on the ropes binding her. The night progressed as quiet as a monastery, but despite all her efforts, the ropes held firm with little to show for her work except blood growing slick over her wrists. Her whole body was a raw mess, from Ezekiel’s rough treatment, the battering from the wagon ride, and the splintered wood she lay on. The largest pain came from her jaw and throat, and only time would tell if she’d bear permanent damage.

It scared her to death that she might lose her voice again, that even if she ever saw Ridge again, she might not be able to tell him that she loved him. To never have the chance to tell him again would be her greatest regret.

The campfire sank to ash and went out, plunging her into thick gloom. Not long after that, the rustle of clothing alerted her to someone’s approach in the moonless night. Her father? She prayed it wasn’t Ezekiel but tried to ready herself for more torture.

The form stealing toward her materialized from the darkness, and Addie breathed easier. Though her mother jumped at the slightest noise, she kept coming. What was Ingrid’s plan?

She pulled out a knife and climbed into the wagon. In moments, she began sawing through the ropes. Her voice was quiet and resigned. “I’ll have you free soon. Run as far and fast