“What's going on?” Daniel asked, his voice almost casual. “What do you want here?”
The shadow of a stout little man appeared from the murkiness beside her. “Just stand real still, Preacher. We don't want to hurt no one here.”
“Whiteley?” Karlee whispered.
“Evening, Ma'am.” He tipped his hat almost politely. “Sorry to wake you. But, you see, we got some business with your husband and this old woman in rags here. Some business we got to take care of tonight.”
“You're working for Baker,” Daniel interrupted.
Whiteley pulled up the trousers of his new civilian clothes. “You guessed right, Preacher. I've been informing him of when shipments of supplies would be easy pickings for years now. We've made quite a haul. Enough for me to retire and live easy after tonight. Only one unfinished detail I have to attend to.”
Karlee felt sick to her stomach. She'd trusted this man. “Your mother wouldn't be very proud of you tonight, Sergeant Whiteley,” she said before she thought.
He laughed. “My mother's been dead for twenty years, Ma'am, but when you mentioned being from Indiana, I figured it was my way to get your husband to talk. We had to find out if Altus was telling any secrets on his death bed. If he talked to anyone, it would probably be a preacher. He was always chumming up to them. Even built this house for the last one for almost nothing.”
“What does Altus have to do with you?” Daniel jerked his head away from the gun, but two men rushed from behind him.
They shoved Karlee out of the way, and each grabbed one of Daniel's arms while the owner of the gun moved his weapon to point at Daniel's mid section. “Make any sudden moves, and I'll gut-shoot you,” a whiny voice almost giggled with the threat. “I like to watch 'em die when they're gut-shot. They wiggle around and complain before finally enough blood leaves them to quieten 'em down.”
Whiteley laughed. “I ain't got time for a visit, Preacher, but I might as well tell you Altus joined us when we started raiding Union supplies. He weren't like the rest of us. He weren't in it for the money. Altus saw raiding as his one chance to fight in a war he'd already missed. Soon after he came onboard, we made a grand haul. But he didn't take to the killing. We tried to tell him, killing is just a part of war, whether they're fighting back or on their knees, begging for mercy. But Altus didn't see it that way. So, it seems he kept part of the shipment. I've come to claim it.”
Whiteley motioned to one of the men still in the shadows. “Gag the woman. I don't trust her to stay quiet.”
A man stuffed a rag in Karlee's mouth and tied it around her head, twisting hair into the knot. Then he jerked her arms behind her and tied them as well.
Karlee gave him a swift kick in the shins for his efforts. The man twisted the ropes tighter and jerked her to the edge of the steps. If she moved again, she'd be tumbling down the steps.
“Altus didn't tell me anything.” Daniel tugged at his human chains. “Let my wife go back inside. We know nothing about a shipment.”
“That's what Altus kept claiming up until his last breath the other night in Sandtown.” Whiteley shook his head. “He was hard to get to after the raid. Melting into the hills with his brother every time he got word Baker was close. I couldn't do anything with Logan breathing down my neck. We tried making the last minister talk. He said he'd rather take a bullet. So Miller obliged.”
The whiny man in front of Daniel snickered. “Took one in the head, he did. Brains splattered ten feet across the road.”
Ida let out a little sound of sorrow and melted as though her mind and heart refused to work any longer. Karlee struggled to help her, but rough hands held her tight. The men let Ida fall as though she were no more than a dried leaf tumbling along the walk.
Daniel tried to pull free. “What makes you think I know anything about a shipment robbed almost a year ago? I wasn't even in town.”
“Guns!” Whiteley's voice grew angry. “Brand new rifles. We figured it out. They have to be here or at the church. We've search everywhere else, and the church burned. When I searched here the other day, all I had with me was new recruits. You could still have them hidden. Save us all some time. Where are they, Preacher?”
“How would I know…” The man in front of Daniel lifted the Colt and slammed it across Daniel's face.
“That ain't the right answer, Preacher,” he hissed as he wiped Daniel's blood from his weapon.
“Easy!” Whiteley snapped. “Don't kill him before we get the answer.” He glared at Daniel. “We ain't got much time. Where are the guns?”
Daniel knew any answer would result in his death. He glanced at Karlee, thankful she was gagged. She was the only one who knew and if she told, they were all dead. “I have no idea,” he answered honestly.
Karlee wiggled and kicked, trying to talk around the gag.
Whiteley didn't miss the exchange of glances between them. He smiled. “You're crazy about this redhead, ain't you, Preacher?”
“She's my wife,” Daniel answered losing his iron control. “Leave her alone!”
“Of course. We'd never want to hurt her.” He motioned for the man holding her to move. “We'll just take her with us. We'll be back at sunrise. If you've got the rifles ready for us, we'll give her back. If you don't, Miller ain't never shot but one woman. He's always wanted the chance to kill another.”
Karlee kicked and wiggled as they dragged her to the wagon.
Miller giggled in Daniel's ear. “I'll think real hard where to kill her. It wouldn't be right to splatter her face or bloody up her clothes. I heard once that if you stab a woman in the back right in the center, they go limp and don't even scream. She won't be nothing but a rag doll if I do it right.”
Rage overwhelmed Daniel. He no longer cared if Miller shot him. He would not lose Karlee. Wildly, he pulled free of one of his captures and slammed his fist into the man on the other side. His mighty arm raised again and swung a second time.
The butt of a Colt plowed against his temple as Daniel's fist lifted a man off the floor.
Another blow slammed into his skull, and all went black.
Karlee watched him crumble and felt her heart shattering like crystal. If he dies, her mind screamed, I die. Amid the raging fear whispered an understanding. If he'd loved May a fraction as much as Karlee now loved him… if she lost him… oh God if she lost him!
Men raised her off the ground and tossed her, face down, into the wagon bed. She fought wildly until she could no longer get enough air in her lungs.
When she settled, Miller patted her behind. “Good girl,” he whined. “Ain't no use fighting. If you get free, we'd just have to kill you early, and you wouldn't want that.”
He patted her again, a little harder than before. “I ain't never had me a preacher's woman. What'd you reckon' she'd do if I rode her a while? If I cut her first, she'd be all limp. She wouldn't mind nothing I did.”
He pulled a knife from his boot and slid it an inch along the center of her back, cutting through material as he passed. She felt the cold blade of the knife tickle her spine. He passed the knife back and forth, almost breaking the skin, almost ending her torture.
“Forget it, Miller. She's a good woman, and it's bad enough we got to kill her come morning,” Whiteley answered. “You keep your hands off her.”
“Right.” Miller laughed as his hand spread across her hip. “I won't touch her if that's what you want, Sergeant. But you got to promise I get to be the one to kill her. I got it all thought out.”
“I promised, didn't I? Now shut up.”
Karlee twisted, rolling away from him. But he scooted with her until he had her wedged into one corner of the wagon. Every few minutes, he'd glance toward Whiteley. When the sergeant wasn't watching, he'd pat her again as if playing some child's game.