Marie limped slowly down the boardwalk, unaware that at that moment, she was being stalked by a human predator. At the point where the boardwalk terminated at the end of the block, she moved carefully down the access steps and onto the dirt road, crossing the wide street in front of her house. She had left the front gate open, so she walked through it and proceeded up the walkway to the front porch. Her key was withdrawn from her cloth purse, and inserted into the lock.
Moving quickly, Oliver decided that this was his best chance to gain access to Marie’s house. The circumstances were not ideal, for he would be forced to wait until dark before they could leave town, but he knew that he might not get another opportunity for a long while. She had been careful, always locking her doors and windows, and always remaining on the main street. No, he reasoned, it must be now!
Rushing up behind her just as she pushed open the door, he shoved her inside. With a cry of pain and surprise, she tumbled to the floor in the foyer, then looked at him with startled eyes as he followed her inside and slammed the door closed behind him. As she watched, he turned the latch, securely locking the door. Then, he turned to face her.
She lay on the hardwood floor, propped up on her hands, staring at him with wide blue eyes, and noticed instantly that he carried a pistol tucked into the front of his trousers. “What do you want?” she demanded, trying to cover her fear with the aggressive inquiry.
“Marie,” he said, menacingly. “Is that any way to greet your soon-to-be husband?”
“I will never marry you, Oliver!” she retorted. “Not ever!”
“We shall see, my dear. We shall see. I noticed you were limping. Did you hurt yourself?” Reaching down, he offered her his hand in assistance, but when she refused to accept his help, he grasped her by the arms and roughly pulled her to her feet.
“It was your fault,” she told him, wrenching her arms free of his grasp. “You tried to kill me!”
He spread his hands, acknowledging the fact. “You drove me to it, darling. I didn’t want to hurt you. I love you, you see, but you continue to reject my affection. I warned you to stop seeing that marshal, and I warned him to leave you alone, but neither of you seem capable of following instructions. Therefore, I had to punish you both.”
“Mon Dieu! You are mad!”
His eyes flashed with anger. “Mad? What kind of talk is that? I am mad with love for you, Marie. Can’t you see that?”
A shout on the street drew his attention briefly from her. Parting the curtain with his hand, he peered outside, but saw nothing of interest. Someone had shouted a greeting to a friend. He let the curtain fall back into place, and turned back to the frightened woman, who stood behind him, her eyes wide with apprehension. “Get in the parlor, Marie.”
“Oliver, please stop this madness. Leave the territory, for you own sake, before it’s too late.”
“Not without you, Marie. Obviously, this is not how I had planned this. We can’t very well leave here during the daylight hours without being seen, but when darkness comes, we’ll take your horses, and we’ll ride out of here together.” When she made no movement to follow his instructions, he shoved her again. “I said, get in the parlor!”
She stumbled off balance, but managed to recover without falling. With no other alternative, she turned and moved into the parlor, but her mind was working feverishly, trying to think of a way to signal someone on the street to her plight. When she didn’t show up to open the store again, Sally would probably come looking for her, an act which could endanger the other woman. “Oliver, listen to me. I will be missed at the store! If I don’t go back after lunch, someone will come looking for me.”
This was something he had obviously not considered. He paced before her, pondering his options. If someone came to the door and was ignored, then that person would likely summon the law, and he would be faced with even more trouble. “All right. If someone comes to the door, you will open it just wide enough to inform them that your ankle is bothering you, and you have decided to stay off it for the rest of the day. If you do not follow my instructions to the letter, I will kill that person. Is that clear?”
She nodded, briskly. She was certain she could convince Sally that her ankle was bothering her, but what would he do about Lucy? She would be coming home from school in just over three hours. Would he harm a young girl?
“Sit down,” he commanded.
She did as directed, sinking into an easy chair near the parlor door. Nervously, Oliver went from window to window, pulling the curtains closed to prevent prying eyes from seeing inside. When his back was to her, Marie bolted from her chair and rushed for the door, but her painful ankle slowed her progress, and she heard his heavy footfalls on the floor behind her. Just as she reached the door and attempted to turn the latch, he seized a handful of her long blonde hair, and yanked her back so hard that she cried out again. He spun her around to face him, and she was startled by the degree of rage and madness she saw in his hostile eyes. Viciously, he slapped her across the face, sending her to the floor again.
Stunned, she lay still for several moments, then rose up on her elbows and gingerly touched her cut lip with her fingertips.
“You must learn to obey me, woman,” he said with no remorse for what he had done. “I didn’t want to have to tie you up, but now that I know I can’t trust you, I have no choice.” He seized her by the arm and pulled her to her feet again, ignoring her cries of protest. Roughly, he escorted her into the parlor and shoved her into a hardbacked chair. He withdrew a length of cord from his pocket. In answer to her quizzical expression, he admitted, “Yes, I expected I would have to do this, so I came prepared. Put your hands behind you.”
She did as directed, and he securely tied her hands together, then knelt before her and tied her ankles together. She winced as he pulled the cord tight around her swollen ankle.
“I won’t gag you, unless you make me. Do you understand?” he asked as he stood up.
She nodded. “Yes.”
“All right. Now, we wait.”
With her securely bound, he moved from room to room on the downstairs level, closing the curtains in other rooms and checking locks. They were safe, for the time being, but he knew she was right. Someone would come looking for her. He only hoped she would follow his directions and convince that person that nothing was out of the ordinary. He did not want to have to fire a shot that would surely bring the law.
Sally Duffield lifted the hem of her skirt up out of the dirt as she hurried across the street, and climbed the stairs to the boardwalk. It was after one o’clock, and she was running late, so she picked up her pace a bit as she walked swiftly past the storefront window. But as she grasped the door knob with her hand, expecting that it would turn to allow her access to the store, she was startled to find it solidly locked. Lowering her eyes to the knob, she saw that the “gone to lunch” sign was still hanging there.
Thinking it odd that Marie had not yet opened the door to customers, she rapped her knuckles on the glass pane. “Marie? It’s Sally!” When there was no answer, she cupped her hands to the glass to peer inside. The building was dark inside, with no sign of its owner.
Puzzled, she stepped back from the door to gaze at it, frowning. This was unlike Marie, who was well-known for her promptness. If she had not opened the store to her customers, then something must have come up.
Sally proceeded down the street toward Marie’s house, thinking that she had either overlooked the hour, or had perhaps become ill.
The gray house stood silently at the end of the street, its windows dark and gloomy. Stopping on the front porch, Sally knocked on the door and waited, but there was no immediate answer. Remembering Marie’s sprained ankle, she gave her some extra time to get to the door, but still there was no sign of Marie. After a brief hesitation, her good upbringing reminding her that it was not polite to enter someone’s home without permission, she grasped the knob and tried to turn it. It was immobile, obviously locked securely from the inside.
In frustration, she jerked on the knob a few times, as if she could somehow coax it open if she was forceful enough. “Marie? Are you all right?”
This time, she heard the click of the lock, and the door opened just a crack, only enough to reveal one of Marie’s eyes and the side of her face.
Thinking it peculiar that Marie was being so secretive, Sally asked, “Marie, are you all right?”
“Um, yes, I’m fine, Sally. I just . . . my ankle is bothering me some, so I’ve decided to stay home the rest of the day and rest.”
Sally frowned, puzzled by her friend’s peculiar behavior. Something was terribly wrong, that was obvious. “Are you sure you’re all right? You seem ---“
“I’m fine, Sally,” she interrupted, her voice a trifle too urgent. She raised her hand and placed it against the door jamb as if to steady herself, and Sally noticed that the wrist appeared chafed. “Just go back to the store and take care of the customers. Oh, and go over to the depot to see if any mail came in today.”
Sally started to remind her that there was no mail run on Thursday, then stopped the words before they reached her lips. Marie was conveying a message to her, a plea for help! Her heart pounded wildly. Sally knew that she was nearly worthless in a crisis, but she also knew that Marie’s life could depend on her ability to remain calm. “Oh. All right, then,” she said, trying to force steadiness into her voice, even though she was scared to death. She had to force her eyes to remain on Marie’s face, instead of straying into the dusky depths of the house. Easily, she could tell that there were no lights on inside. “I’ll leave you to rest. See you tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
The door closed, and Sally turned her back on the house, pressing her open hand against her chest as if to steady her pounding heart. Retaining some degree of calm, she walked down the steps and approached the gate.
Her skin seemed to crawl, as if someone was gazing at her through the window, someone that probably was not Marie. Somehow, she forced her feet to move at a casual pace as she approached the boardwalk, and climbed the access steps. As she neared the store, she chanced a glance behind her just in time to see the parlor curtain fall back into place.
In a sudden panic, she snatched up her skirts and ran across the street and up the steps on the other side. Without warning, she burst through the front door of the law enforcement office. “Corporal! Marshal!”
Sipping a cup of coffee at that precise moment, Clive Bennett jumped involuntarily, spilling the hot liquid over his hand and down the front of his red uniform. He leaped from his chair, knocking it over backward with an alarming clatter.
Jack Craddock reacted with the lightning speed of a gunfighter. Dropping his feet off the desk, he snatched his revolver from its holster and pointed it straight at the startled woman, who shrieked with fright as she slammed her body back against the door, which slammed closed so hard that the glass rattled.
“Sally!” the two men scolded in unison.
“That’s a good way to git yerself shot, woman!” Jack told her.
“What’s gotten into you?” Clive asked, casting a regretful glance at the stain on the front of his uniform. “Look what you made me do!” He snatched up a rag, and dipped it in the water bucket and began sawing at the wet blotch on his uniform that was certain to stain the fabric.
“I’m sorry, Corporal,” she said, breathless and shaking with fear, “but something’s wrong. I think that awful British man is with Marie inside her house!”
The two men exchanged glances. While Clive continued to work on the stain, Jack returned his weapon to its holster. Sally stared at them in disbelief. They were not taking her seriously!
“Why do you think that?” Clive asked.
Sally made an impatient gesture with her hands, annoyed that she was expected to waste time explaining what she knew was true. “When I came back from lunch, the door to the general store was still locked, so I went to Marie’s house to see if she was all right. She opened the door when I knocked, but just a crack, just enough to see part of her face. She said her ankle was bothering her, and she had decided to stay home the rest of the afternoon.”
“That sounds logical to me,” Jack remarked.
“Me too,” Clive agreed. “She sprained it pretty bad.”
“I know that!” Sally cried, frustrated.
“Sally, I really don’t think he would be brazen enough to come into town again, especially in the daytime.”
“You said that before, Corporal!” she retorted, casting a quick glance at the marshal for emphasis, then continued, “As I started to leave, she asked me to see if any mail had come in today.”
The two men exchanged glances again. Clive’s hand slowed in its work on the stain. “There’s no mail on Thursday,” he said.
“I know, and so does Marie. She was trying to give me a message! Something’s wrong, I tell you! Oh, and one more thing -- she raised her hand so that I could see her wrist, and it was red, like she had been tied up. Don’t you see? That’s why it took her so long to get to the door! He had to untie her!”
She had their undivided attention, now. “I have a bad feeling about this,” Jack said.
Clive dropped the rag onto the desktop. “So do I.”
“Well, I reckon it won’t hurt nothin’ to check things out,” Jack said, rising to his feet. “Better safe than sorry, as my ma always said.” He removed his pistol from its holder again and twirled it around his finger by the trigger guard, then slipped it back again.
“All right,” Clive agreed.
The two men stepped outside, but instead of immediately proceeding toward the Canadian side of town, they paused to gaze up the street at the gray house to assess the situation. “Think he’s really in there?” Clive asked.
Jack shook his head as his dark eyes gazed intently at the windows of the house, both upstairs and down. “I dunno.” There was no indication of anyone moving around inside. The curtains were drawn on the ground level, apparently to prevent prying eyes from peering inside. “The curtains are drawn. Don’t she leave ‘em open in the daytime to let in the light?”
“Yes!” Sally exclaimed. “I knew there was something else peculiar! He’s in there, sure as the world!”
The men did not respond, their silence confirmation that they agreed with her exclamation.
“I think Sally’s right. He’s probably holed up inside with her,” Jack said at last, breaking the silence. “He don’t tend to think before he acts, so he’s most likely trying to think of a way to get to the horses without bein’ spotted. Could be he plans to wait until dark before he acts. That gives us a few hours to get ‘im outta there.”
“Well, we can’t just waltz up to the front door without tipping our hand,” Clive said. “We know he’s probably in there, but he doesn’t know that we know. As long as he has a false sense of security, it improves our odds of finding a peaceful resolution to this problem.”
Jack gazed at him for a moment, his mind deciphering what Clive had just said. “Yeah. Maybe we’d better approach the house from the back. He’s probably gonna be watching the front.”
Clive nodded in agreement. While Sally watched, both men removed their weapons from their holsters and checked the cylinders. Jack inserted a couple of bullets in the empty slots, then snapped it shut again and spun the cylinder before returning it to his holster.
“Sally, I suggest you go back home,” Clive suggested. “We’re going to try to resolve this peacefully, but Knapp is like a coiled spring. He’s unpredictable, and there could be trouble.”
“Just take care of Marie,” she pleaded.
“That goes without sayin’, Sally,” Jack assured her.
Reluctantly, Sally started to move toward her boarding house, but her own curious nature compelled her to stop to watch as the two men slipped back into the office. Then, she stopped altogether, and slipped behind the edge of the building where the law enforcement office jutted out from the row of buildings. From here, she had a good view of Marie’s house.
Jack and Clive hurried through the office and the adjacent back room, where the extra jail cells and the wood pile was kept, and exited through the back door. Keeping close against the rear of the buildings, they made their way toward the final building on that side of the street, and paused to peer around the corner of the structure.
They were looking at the south-east corner of Marie’s house, affording them views of both the east and south walls. As on the south side, the windows of the east side were closed with the curtains drawn, preventing any view inside.
“There is one curtain that doesn’t quite meet in the middle,” Clive observed, indicating a window on the east side. “I’ll take a look and see if I can see anything.”
Crouching low, he sprinted across the street that curved past the front of Marie’s house, and hopped lightly over the picket fence. Reaching the structure, he pressed his back against the wall. To his surprise, he found that Jack had followed, and pressed against the wall on the opposite side of the window. His weapon was drawn, pointing at the sky, as he prepared for action.
With an annoyed expression, Clive placed a restraining hand on Jack’s wrist, and hissed, “Jack! This is Canada, and we are not going in there with guns blazing! You have to do this my way! Now, go back and wait for me.”
After casting a defiant glance at Clive, Jack leaned close to the window and peered in through the narrow slit where the curtains did not quite meet. For a long moment, he saw nothing of interest. The window offered a side view of Marie’s parlor, but his view was limited by the curtain that obstructed his vision.
After several moments, he saw Oliver Knapp pace into view and then quickly pass out of view again. A few moments later, he appeared again, moving in the opposite direction. Obviously, he was pacing nervously from window to window. His mouth was moving, and he realized that Knapp was talking to someone, presumably Marie. He was waving a pistol recklessly, as if for emphasis. “He’s in there, all right,” he said, quietly. As he watched, Knapp suddenly turned toward the window.
“Down!” Jack whispered, urgently.
Together, they dropped to the ground beneath the window, pressed as close against the wall as they could get. Above them, they saw the curtains move as Oliver Knapp parted them to gaze through them. After a moment, they saw the curtain move again as it fell back into place.
The two lawmen stood up again and resumed their places on each side of the window. Jack’s eyes gazed at the Mountie from across the width of the window pane. “By the way, he’s armed.”
Clive’s expression was scornful as he stared at the Jack, then, deciding there was nothing he could do to convince the marshal to do it his way, he pressed against the window pane to look for himself. Knapp’s back was to him as he walked away from the window.
He drew back again, and gestured toward the corner of the building across the street. Together, they retreated to a position far enough back that they could speak without risk of detection, their presence hidden from view by the building.
“We gotta figure out a way to get in there, Corporal,” Jack said.
“I know that,” Clive replied. His eyes scanned the house, searching for a solution. “There are windows all around the house. If I can get one of them open, I can slip inside and take him by surprise.”
“The windows are all locked. Remember, we both told her to lock ‘em until we catch Knapp.” He lifted his eyes to the second story windows. “You may be right about the window, though, but I think our best bet is upstairs. They’re the ones most likely to be unlocked.” He leaned around the edge of the building to glance toward the stable. “We could get a ladder from the stable, and ---“
“What do you mean ‘we’?” Clive interrupted. “This is Canada, Craddock! We’ll do it my way!”
“You gotta better idea, I’d sure like to hear it!” Jack challenged.
Clive hesitated, his mind working furiously, but could come up with no alternative plan. “All right, we’ll get the ladder, but this is my jurisdiction. If anyone is going in there, it’ll be me.”
He started forward, but Jack seized both hands full of the back of his uniform jacket, and hauled him back. Forcibly, he slammed the startled Canadian against the wall, and pointed his finger in his face. “You listen to me, Mountie! That man in there tried to kill me twice, and he nearly succeeded both times! Even worse, he tried to kill Marie! I gotta bone to pick with him, and I intend to see this through! I don’t give a hang about jurisdiction, so don’t you dare try and stop me!”
The two men glared at one another for a long moment, but there was no intimidation in either’s expression or eyes. Finally, Clive knocked Jack’s hands away. “We’re wasting time. Let’s get the ladder, and we’ll work out the details later.”
Without waiting for a reply, he started walking toward the south end of town again, intending to cross the street father back from the house where they would be less likely to attract attention. After a moment, Jack followed. Clive was forced to resign himself to the fact that the marshal intended to bring an end to the problem with Oliver Knapp himself, and nothing he could do that would deter him from achieving that end. Still, he worried that the marshal’s quick temper would endanger the woman they were trying to rescue.
Together, they crossed the street and slipped down the alley between the store and the bank, and circled back northward until the reached the stable.
“We need a ladder, Archie,” Jack said to the blacksmith, who looked up in surprised when they entered the stable from the west entrance.
“What’s up?” he asked, curiously.
“We think Oliver Knapp is inside Marie’s house,” Clive explained. “I need to get inside through an upstairs window.”
“She in there with him?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“You know where it is. Need any help?”
“Nope,” Jack told him. “Just stay back outta the way.”
The main ladder to the loft was nailed in place, but an extra ladder used to reach the loft from the outside was located in the feed room, and with Jack on one end and Clive on the other, they carried it out the west door, but paused at the corner of the building to gaze toward Marie’s house again.
“Listen, Jack, this will go a lot easier if we work together on this,” Clive said.
“Agreed. As long as you understand that I’m going in there.”
“Jack, I’m younger than you,” he said, attempting to reason with Jack’s sense of logic. “It’ll be easier for me to climb through the window.”
“I ain’t that old, Clive!” Jack retorted, offended. “ ’Sides, a difference that don’t make no difference ain’t no difference!”
Clive smiled, amused. “That’s very profound, Jack.”
A frown darkened the marshal’s expression. “Profound?”
“It means insightful, philosophical –“
“I knew that,” Jack told him, even though his puzzled expression indicated that he was lying. He waved it away, impatiently. “That don’t matter none. What matters is that I am going inside that house!”
“No, you’re not Jack. You’re a better shot than I am, so you’re going to have to cover me while I do it.”
Jack stared at him, unable to deny that he was the better shot. “Let’s get that ladder propped against the house,” he suggested.
Thinking the matter was settled, Clive asked, “Which window do you suggest?”
“Lucy’s window, around back. We’re least likely to be spotted back there.”
Clive nodded in agreement. “All right.”
They paused briefly to gaze toward the house. As they watched, the curtain moved in the front parlor window, and the face of Oliver Knapp filled the pane. He was still moving from window to window along the south, east, and west sides of the house. Both lawmen hoped he was not also checking the north windows, or the likelihood of detection increased. For the moment, Knapp was staring down the street toward the marshal’s office, apparently searching for suspicious activity. Satisfied that his plot to kidnap Marie was as of yet undetected, he allowed the curtain fell back into place again.
Believing it safe, Clive started forward.
Jack grasped his arm, pulling him back. “Not yet.”
Clive glanced at him, surprised, then waited.
As Jack had expected, the curtain was pulled back on a west window as Knapp peered through that window as well, searching the west road with nervous eyes. The two lawmen shrank back against the side of the stable, and waited. After a few moments, Knapp’s face disappeared from the window, again, and the curtain dropped back into place.
“Thanks, Jack,” Clive said, acknowledging their plan would have failed if Knapp had spotted them crossing the street with a ladder.
“Don’t mention it, Clive. Let’s get this ladder in place.”
Quietly, they hurried across the street, circled along the outside edge of the picket fence, then approached the house from the rear. The ladder was propped against the edge of the back porch, allowing a surface on which to walk beneath the window.
As soon as the ladder was in position, Jack trotted up it before Clive could stop him. At the top, he stepped onto the roof of the porch and gazed down at him. “You comin’?” he asked, quietly.
Clive was shaking his head with annoyance and frustration at the marshal’s continued disregard for the border and proper procedure. Of course I’m coming! he thought to himself. While he scaled the ladder, Jack turned his attention to the window, and was pleased that it lifted when he pushed up on it. He reached inside, and propped it open with the small piece of wood that Lucy kept on the inner sill. As Clive stepped onto the roof of the porch, Jack slipped through the window into Lucy’s bedroom.
When he stepped clear of the window, Clive followed, ducking through the window with a flourish, as if to prove how easy it was for a younger man, but caught the toe of his boot on the window sill, and tumbled ungracefully onto the floor. With a guilty and embarrassed expression, he glanced quickly up at the marshal.
Jack resisted the urge to laugh, but just barely. “Weren't you just tellin' me how easy it would be for a younger man, Corporal?” he whispered with a broad smile.
Clive’s face flamed red as he got his feet under him and stood up. “Never mind!” he hissed. “Could’ve happened to anyone.”
Through Lucy’s open door, they heard a voice from downstairs, a voice that instantly wiped the smirk from Jack’s face. “Did you hear something?” the voice asked with a distinct British clip.
There was a brief hesitation before Marie’s response, indicating that she had indeed heard, but realized that it was her rescuers. “No, I didn’t hear anything.”
“I’m sure I heard something.” The voice drew nearer as Knapp approached the staircase in the foyer.
Clive nudged Jack, and gestured quickly toward the narrow staircase hidden by a closed door that led down into the kitchen. Leaving Lucy’s bedroom, he and Jack hurried toward the closed door, opened it, and quietly slipped into the narrow staircase just as Knapp was going up to check out the source of the noise he had heard. Jack pulled the door closed behind him. There, in the darkness, they crouched against the door, listening as Oliver Knapp reached the top of the main staircase.
With his weapon drawn, Oliver crept quietly down the corridor and peered into Marie’s bedroom first. Nothing appeared out of place, so he proceeded to Lucy’s room across the hall. Again, no one was there, but the distinct chill in the air drew his attention to the window, which was still propped open with the stick of wood.
His heart leaped with apprehension. Had the girl left it open before going to school that morning? That was possible. He, himself, frequently slept with the window open and then forgot to close it. Or had someone slipped in through that window? If that was the case, then that person was inside the house at that moment!
A sudden feeling of apprehension shivered down his spine, and he whirled around, nervously, expecting to find someone creeping up on him, but he saw only the empty room behind him. Dropping to his hands and knees, he peered under the bed. Under it, he found only a small keepsake box, obviously belonging to the girl who resided in the bedroom. He rose up, his eyes searching for anything that could be used as a hiding place for an intruder, but saw only a small wardrobe, too small to conceal a grown man inside it.
Satisfied that Knapp was busy searching the rooms, Clive nudged Jack, and started down the narrow stairs, the seldom-used steps creaking beneath his weight. Jack followed.
Rising to his feet, Oliver dusted off his trousers, then went across the hall into Marie’s room again. Her wardrobe was much larger, and with his weapon ready, he yanked open the doors only to be confronted with her large selection of dresses, skirts and blouses. Roughly, he shoved them aside, but no one was hiding inside.
He turned away, frustrated. He was certain that he had heard something! Someone was inside the house with him and Marie. So, where was he?
Stepping into the hallway again, he saw the closed door at the end of the corridor. Moving cautiously toward it, his gun ready to stop anyone who threatened him, he approached it. Stopping before it, he yanked it open.
Inside, a steep, narrow staircase led down from the second story, made a right angle halfway down, and proceeded to the first floor.
His heart fluttered, nervously. He had been unaware of the existence of the staircase, but obviously someone in town knew about it, and had used it to escape when he had come up the main staircase.
The marshal! He must be trying to take Marie away from him!
Irrational anger seized him, and he stepped into the closet staircase, which was barely wide enough to accommodate him, and slowly descended the steep wooden steps.
At the bottom of the staircase, the two lawmen emerged from the stairs into the kitchen, and quietly slipped into the parlor.
Marie was in a chair, her hands and feet bound, and her face lit up with relief when she saw them. Clive pressed his fingers to his lips to silence her, then while Clive untied her hands, Jack untied her ankles.
“He went upstairs,” she told them, quietly. “He as a gun!”
Jack heard the creak of a footfall on the back staircase, and quickly raised his finger to his lips for silence. He moved quickly to the open door leading into the kitchen, and pressed his back against the wall.
Clive moved to the wall on the other side of the door, and they waited, tensely, as they heard the quiet footsteps of the Englishman approaching them.
Oliver stepped into the parlor, and immediately found two pistols pressed against his temples, one on either side.
“Move, an’ you’re a dead man, Knapp,” Jack warned.
Given no alternative, Oliver froze. Jack snatched his pistol from his hand, and grasped a handful of Knapp’s jacket and roughly yanked him into the parlor. Raising the confiscated pistol in a threatening gesture, as if intending to use it as a club, he said, “For two cents, I’d ---“
“Jack,” Clive warned.
Jack glanced at him, sharply, but did not carry out the threat. Instead, he passed Knapp’s pistol to the corporal.
As the arresting officer, Clive then took charge. Returning his own pistol to its holster, he said, “Oliver Knapp, I hereby place you under arrest for the kidnapping and the attempted murder of a Canadian citizen, and the attempted murder of a U.S. Marshal.”
“Twice!” Jack told him. “He took a shot at me, remember?”
“That was on American soil,” Clive reminded him. “He can’t be tried in Canada for that.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Well, don’t worry. It’ll be a long time before Mr. Knapp is released from prison.” He turned his attention to Marie as he tucked Knapp’s pistol into the waistband of his trousers. “Did he hurt you, Marie?”
She shook her head. “No. I’m all right, Clive.” Spotting the stain on the front of his jacket, she looked alarmed. “Are you injured?”
He glanced down at the coffee stain. “Oh. No. It’s coffee. Sally startled me when she burst into the office, and I spilled it.”
I will not go to prison! Oliver thought, his mind working frantically to think of a way out of his predicament. Taking notice of the fact that the Mountie’s pistol was holstered and snapped into place by the cover, he remembered that the marshal was injured. Which side? he thought. The left side! Abruptly, he jabbed his elbow as hard as he could into Jack’s injured ribs.
Jack cried out in pain and surprise, and doubled over against a lamp table. The pistol slipped from his hand to the floor as his knees buckled.
The few moments it took Clive to react to the new turn of events was all the time Knapp needed to bolt for the door. Clive whirled around and unsnapped the cover on his holster, but before he could withdraw the weapon, Jack had snatched a brass figurine from the lamp table and flung it at the fleeing Englishman. The heavy object struck him on the back of the knees, sending him sprawling to the floor on his face. Marie’s rug skidded across the floor beneath him, folding up like an accordion. An instant later, Clive was standing over him with his pistol aimed at his face.
“Don’t try that again!” he warned. Glancing over his shoulder at Jack, he asked, “You all right?”
“Yeah,” Jack groaned, his hand pressed against his side. He pulled himself away from the lamp table, and sank to the floor in a seated position, doubling over the injured rib.
“Why didn’t you just reach for your gun?” he asked.
“As much as it would pleasure me to kill him, I didn’t wanna do it in Marie’s house,” Jack replied. “She’d ‘ve had a mess to clean up off the floor.”
Marie knelt beside him, rewarding him with her pleased expression and a grateful smile. “For that, I thank you,” she told him. Gently, she placed her hand over the hand that he was pressing against his wounded side. “Now, do you see why I wanted to wrap those ribs?”
He started to laugh, then cut it off quickly when it caused him pain. “Yeah,” he groaned.
She cradled his face in her hands. “Try not to laugh, Jack,” she advised. "It’ll cause you pain for a week or so.”
“I’ll try to remember that.”
Clive placed the handcuffs on Knapp, and pulled him to his feet. “Let’s go, Knapp.”
Oliver turned back to Marie, still expressing rage at the attention she was bestowing upon the marshal. “You’re a harlot, Marie!” he screamed. “A harlot! I saw you kissing that man on your front porch last night! And you liked it! You’re undeserving of someone like me! You’re a Jezebel!”
Clive glanced at her and Jack with surprise on his face, then shoved Oliver toward the door. “I said, let’s go!”
Knapp turned those hostile eyes on the Mountie with an expression of haughty disbelief. “You’re not taking me to jail! I am a Knapp! A member of British nobility! I deserve more consideration than that!”
“You break the law, you go to jail,” Clive told him, impatiently, taking a firm hold of his arm to lead him toward the foyer.
As soon as Clive and Oliver had made their departure through the front door, Marie’s expression changed abruptly, and she covered her face with her hands and began to cry. Pushing aside his own pain, Jack’s arms pulled her against him for a comforting embrace.
“It’s all right, Marie. He’s in custody, now.”
She wept against his shoulder. “It’s finally over! I’ll never have to look at him again!”
“I’m afraid you will, Marie,” he corrected. “We’ll both have to testify at his trial when it comes up, but you’re strong. I know you can do it.”
She drew back to look into his dark eyes, and saw the love and understanding there. She nodded, then caressed his face with her hands and leaned into him for a brief kiss before climbing to her feet. “Let me check those ribs again.”
Painfully, Jack struggled to his feet, accepting her offer of assistance. “One thing’s for sure, Marie. You and Lucy are safe, now.”
GO TO CHAPTER TWENTY THREE