Retribution by DV Berkom

Author:DV Berkom [Berkom, D.V.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Duct Tape Press

Chapter 9

Claire sat on the front porch watching the sun drop low on the horizon. She helped herself to a glass of whiskey, hoping it would soothe her nerves. The longer she waited without taking action, the more agitated she became. Mart hadn’t returned yet, and Mrs. Duggan’s books on embroidery and other feminine pursuits had failed to keep her engaged.

She’d taken Brick for a ride along the river, stopping to enjoy the warm summer day, then returned and did whatever chores needed tending before going in to make supper. She’d waited as long as she could, but eventually succumbed to hunger and ate a bowl of the stew she’d made.

With a few hours of daylight left, after supper she’d set up some targets to practice with the six-shooter, then cleaned the piece and put it away. Now, having run out of things to do to keep her mind off her circumstances, she’d become tense and nervous and couldn’t sit still.

What if Mart had a change of heart and decided she was guilty? What if Augusta slipped and told someone where she was? In Leadville, like any town, gossip spread fast. What if she never found out who had killed her family and burned down her house? What would happen to her then? Going back to Pennsylvania seemed the only course of action. But she’d come to enjoy the freedom the West represented. She had a feeling she’d chafe under the niceties of “civilized” society now.

She drained her glass and stood, preparing to go inside and retire for the night, when a crunching sound came from the side of the house. She froze in place, listening. There’d been no sound of hooves on the drive, and Mart wasn’t one to be quiet. The crickets had gone silent, which wasn’t unusual in itself, but the absence of their song gave rise to an eerie stillness. She waited, straining to hear. After several seconds, the crickets started up again. She shook off her unease, telling herself it was just a figment of her imagination.

She crossed the porch and reached for the screen door. A floorboard creaked behind her. She tensed and started to turn when a gloved hand clamped down on her mouth, and an iron-strong arm snaked around her waist.

Claire screamed through the leather trapping her mouth. The odor of unwashed humanity floated up to meet her as she struggled against the assailant’s grip. The more she fought, the tighter their hold became, until she was scarcely able to breathe. The vision of Mart’s Peacemaker flashed in her mind, but there was no way she could reach the revolver unless she broke free.

“Be quiet, woman,” the man’s voice hissed in her ear. “Stop fightin’ me or I’ll break your damn arm.”

Claire forced herself to relax. The man chuckled.

“That’s it. Nice and easy.” Keeping his hand over her mouth, he dragged her off the porch toward the darkness beyond. A fresh dose of panic surged through her, and she started kicking and twisting, trying to squirm out of his grip.

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