Once Upon a Mail Order Bride - Linda Broday Page 0,85
fine points. “Stay back or you’re next.”
“You won’t get away with this,” Nora spat. “Rot in hell.”
“Watch me.”
Tiny bounded into the hitched wagon with Pickens right behind and grabbed the reins. Addie made a dive for little Willow, playing in the dirt, and snatched her up just in time to avoid being trampled by the horses. Dodging bullets, the two prisoners headed directly for the stage. The strange woman climbed down from the top, and Tiny yanked her into the wagon.
Men ran toward them, firing and cursing.
Pickens held the homemade weapon against his hostage’s neck and yelled, “Stop shooting or this woman dies.”
“Better say your prayers ’cause you’re gonna need ’em,” hollered one of the men.
Without another word, the prisoners and their hostage raced away. Men ran to find their horses, and those already mounted took off after the wagon.
Ridge could only watch. His focus was on making sure Jack stayed alive. The loss of blood had already turned his friend’s face ashen. “Get the doctor! Hurry!”
Nora knelt next to her husband, and her hands shook as she whipped off her shawl. She wadded it up tightly, and Ridge switched it out with his blood-soaked shirt.
“Where’s Dr. Mary?” Ridge barked, then glanced up and breathed a sigh of relief to see the doctor hurrying toward them.
Jack gripped Ridge’s hand. “Go after them.”
“I will.” Ridge stood to make room for the doctor. His gaze went to Addie, who had collected the Bowdre kids around her. She seemed rattled but fine.
One look, and Dr. Mary ordered, “Let’s get Bowdre to my hospital. Thank God they missed the main artery, but he’ll die if I don’t get the bleeding stopped.”
Ridge and others carefully picked Jack up and carried him to the hospital. Half the town was still standing in the square, talking about what had just happened. Everyone was asking about the strange woman from the stagecoach, but no one knew who she might be. Several people speculated that she came to help Tiny and Pickens escape.
Tossing around theories seemed a waste of time, in Ridge’s opinion. He dealt in facts, and right now there weren’t many.
He thought about praying that his good friend wouldn’t die, but maybe God didn’t need a joke today, and that’s how Ridge felt about asking for favors. Best to stick to the man he now was. The one who’d learned the best luck was what you made for yourself.
Once Jack was in Dr. Mary’s surgery, Ridge emerged from the hospital and went straight to Cob, still standing where he’d left him. Addie was nowhere in sight, and someone told him she’d gone to the Bowdre house with the children.
With that, Ridge swung into the saddle and galloped away, chasing the dust cloud left by the others who’d already lit out. How quickly the men of Hope’s Crossing had stepped back into their old roles—outlaws thirsting for some justice. There were none better. Ridge urged Cob faster and soon passed the stragglers. He kept riding, pushing the horse harder. He’d made Jack a promise and would do his best to keep it.
Before long, he caught up with the lead riders, who’d reined up. “Why are you stopped?”
Dallas Hawk pushed back his hat. The large man’s complexion seemed even redder than normal, anger probably playing a big part. “We lost ’em. They went around this stand of mesquites and just disappeared.”
“What do you mean…disappeared?” That didn’t make sense to Ridge. “How far back were you?”
“I mean they weren’t here, or up the road, or anywhere.” The breeze danced in Hawk’s long, bushy beard. He blew out a frustrated breath. “Me and the boys were probably seventy-five yards back. No more than that. The mean one that stabbed Jack was still holding the woman in front of him, so we couldn’t shoot. How’s Jack?”
“The doc was looking after him, trying to get the bleeding stopped. It doesn’t look good.” Ridge scanned the brush. “I’m going to ride on and see what I can find.”
“Mind if I come along?”
“Suit yourself.” Ridge trotted away, keeping an eye out for anything out of the ordinary.
“That guy sure had a sharp fork,” Hawk remarked.
“He’d filed the tines down to knife points.”
“Next time we get a prisoner, we oughta make him eat with his damn fingers.”
Ridge agreed. “Or hang him on the spot.”
They rode for about two miles, then turned around. Near the stand of mesquites where the escapees had disappeared, Ridge cut off to the left and went down into a gully that was