Chapter Nine

"Whit Moore! Where are you?"

The sound of Brodie's voice shattered Esther's sleep, booming like thunder across the camp. Opening her eyes, she reached for Whit, but his side of the bedroll was cold. Her heart raced as she scrambled out of the tent, her hazel eyes wide with fear. She gripped her tattered paletot close to her slender frame, desperately trying to make sense of the situation.

"Where is he?" Brodie roared, his menacing gaze scanning the area. "That snake! He betrayed us!"

Esther's breath caught in her throat, her mind racing with the implications of Brodie's words. He stopped when he saw her standing at the edge of the clearing. "You. Where did he go?"

She moved her fingers up to her neck and fiddled with the frog at the top of her cloak. "I don't know. He wasn't here when I woke up this morning."

His eyes narrowed into slits, and his jaw clenched so tightly she could see the muscles flexing. He lunged forward, fingers outstretched to grab her arms in a vice-like grip. "Tell me what you know," he growled, shaking her violently, as if trying to rattle answers from her very bones.

"I do not know what you are talking about." Dread consumed her as she imagined every outcome. She desperately prayed for her mind to quiet down and for divine guidance in the moments to come. "Please, Brodie. You'll hurt my child."

He let go of her hand as if it was searing hot, and she could see the pain in his eyes for a moment. "Child? Ma…"

Whatever he was about to say was drowned by a loud commotion, followed by a voice shouting, "Found him!"

Brodie pointed his finger at Esther's face. "I'll deal with you in a few minutes, girly. First, I need to take care of some business. You'll want to watch this and see how the Richards deal with people who betray them." He turned on his heel and strode toward the fire. "Bring him here," he growled.

Esther's heart dropped to the pit of her stomach as she watched Big Joe and Digger drag Whit into the clearing, his face bloodied and clothes torn. She wanted to run to him, to protect him, but fear kept her rooted in place.

As she observed him, she couldn't help but notice his tightly clenched jaw and the grinding of his teeth as his jaw moved back and forth. His swollen eyes glared with determination as the tight ropes cut into his skin. He refused to show any signs of weakness, even in this dire situation.

"Whit," Esther whispered, her voice barely audible, as her heart threatened to break free from her chest. What could she do to help him without putting herself in danger?

Brodie's voice dripped with disdain as he closed in on Whit, a dangerous glint in his eye as he brandished a knife. "Thought you could play us for fools, didn't you? You're not as smart as you think, boy."

"Leave him alone!" Esther wanted to scream, but her voice was paralyzed. Esther's feet firmly planted on the ground, preventing her from moving. Whit looked at her and tilted his head.

What did he want?

"Imagine my surprise when I went to town this morning," Brodie sneered, his scarred face contorted with anger. "Did you know the Reverend's family is alive? Someone even moved the boy from the Chapmans." He paused, allowing the information to sink in before delivering a cruel blow to Whit's stomach.

"Ugh!" Whit grunted, his body doubling over from the impact. Pain etched itself across his handsome features, but he refused to meet Brodie's eyes.

When Brodie landed a second blow, Esther couldn't bear it any longer. Her mind raced with possibilities, desperate for a solution as she watched Whit suffer at the hands of Brodie. "Lord, give me strength," she prayed silently, her resolve hardening like steel.

"Whit did nothing wrong!" she blurted out, her voice wavering but determined. "You have no right to hurt him."

"Stay out of this, girl," Brodie snarled, his gaze filled with menace as he turned it on her. "This is between me and the yellow-bellied traitor."

"Please," Esther pleaded, her hazel eyes filling with tears.

"Silence!" Brodie roared, his patience clearly running thin. "Whit has betrayed us all, and he will pay for it."

Esther could only watch helplessly, her heart aching with each labored breath Whit took.

"Get out of here, Esther," Whit slurred through thick lips.

"No," Brodie said. "I want her to watch as I take my time breaking you." He dropped the blade of his knife in the fire before turning to land a boot on Whit's side.

Whit groaned and rolled over. He looked up from the ground at Esther and adjusted his lips.

Run!

With her heart pounding and lungs burning, she spun on her heel and bolted toward the nearby creek where several horses were tethered to bushes. Without hesitation, she dashed toward them, dropping their lines as she went. She slapped their hindquarters, urging them to run through the camp and create chaos.

As she reached the last horse, she jumped onto a large rock and then onto its back, clinging to the animal's mane as they galloped down the trail toward the secret spot Whit had shown her.

"Esther! Where are you going?" Brodie's voice echoed through the trees, but she didn't answer. Instead, she leaned lower against the animal's neck, gripping the reins and mane tightly, and urged it forward. The images of Whit's battered form and the desperate hope she could save him consumed her thoughts as the horse charged down the trail.

"Dear Lord, help me."

She strained to remember the path she needed to take. Her horse's hooves pounded against the dirt path as she rode, sweat beading on her forehead from the intense ride. Fear and exhaustion clouded her mind as she attempted to remember exactly how far down the path she needed to go. Using every ounce of strength left in her body, she trusted in her memory and the Lord's guidance to lead her to safety.

Finally, the trees thinned, and she slowed down, looking over her shoulder for any signs of pursuit. Seeing no one behind her, she took a deep breath, but knew there was no time to relax. Suddenly, a glimmer of light caught her eye. The black rock stood tall, like a beacon in the distance. The sun reflected off its surface, making it shine brighter than all the other rocks around it.

Without hesitation, she dug her heels into the horse's sides and directed it toward the creek. The chilly water splashed and soaked through her skirt against her legs as they charged through the rushing current. She guided the horse up the bank and through the thick bushes on the other side, never once slowing down until she was across the field.

"Help! Please help me!" Esther cried out, bringing the horse to a halt just outside the front door. She slid from the back of the horse, her legs wobbling beneath her from terror and exhaustion. Fumbling with the door, she banged on the wooden surface, praying someone would hear her.

There was yelling from inside and the sound of wood scraping against the floor before silence. Esther banged on the door again.

"Help me!" Her voice cracked with desperation as she turned to see a horse and rider crashing through the dense bushes, heading straight for the farmhouse. With shaking hands, she frantically pounded on the door, praying someone would answer and let her in.

Finally, the door swung open with a haunting creak, revealing a woman armed with a rifle. Esther could feel her heart racing as she stumbled backwards, nearly tripping over her own feet. The woman's sharp eyes assessed Esther before finally speaking.

"What did you say?" she demanded, her tone icy and cautionary.

"He's going to kill me," Esther burst out, tears streaming down her face. "Whit's in danger. We need your help."

The woman's expression softened slightly as she lowered her weapon. "Slow down, child," she said. "Who's after you?"

"Brodie Richards and his gang," Esther gasped, her entire body trembling with fear. "They've got Whit, and they're going to kill him. He told me if I was in danger, I needed to come here."

The woman peered past Esther, scanning the area for any signs of danger before spying the horse bolting toward them. "I don't want trouble at my doorstep," she warned, a hint of fear creeping into her voice. "I have my own children to protect."

Esther fell onto her knees, desperate and pleading. Clutching at the woman's skirt, she begged for mercy. "I'm begging you," she choked out through sobs, "please help me."

The woman's eyes narrowed, and she raised her rifle once more, aiming it at the field. "Get inside and close the door," the woman ordered.

There was no time to stand as Esther crawled on all fours around the woman and toward the door. Before she could enter, the door shut in her face, and she could hear something being dragged in front of it.

She turned around and pressed her back against the door. A hysterical laugh burst forth from her lips as she thought of the utter absurdity of this petite woman being able to protect her from Brodie's men.

Big Joe rode his horse up to the front of the house and pulled it to a stop. Esther cringed and curled herself up in a ball, pretending he wouldn't see her behind the woman's skirts. Despite his size, Big Joe dismounted from his horse with surprising agility after the lengthy ride. He drew his gun from its holster, recognition flashing in his eyes when he saw the woman standing at the edge of the porch.

"Evangeline? What in tarnation…" Big Joe began, but the woman cut him off with a sharp crack of gunfire. The shot rang out, deafening in the small space, and the man crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

Esther stared at the scene before her, heart pounding so loudly in her ears she could scarcely hear her own thoughts. It was too much. The violence, the fear, the desperate race to the farmhouse. Everything from the past few days cumulated in this moment. Her vision swam, and then the world went black as she crumpled to the porch, mercifully unconscious.