Chapter Fourteen

Trust Me

After a sleepless night…tossing and turning…seeing Jordan every time he shut his eyelids, Woody got up with the sun and walked over to Garret's office. Of course the doctor's office wasn't opened yet and Jordan was nowhere in sight, but Woody was fully prepared to wait until he saw her ride up. When he did dream last night, it was uneasy visions of her … calling for him…needing help. In the morning's dim light, he had tried to shake off the feeling, knowing it was probably just the sum result of yesterday's fears of her being on Max's claim by herself.

But those emotions didn't fade with the moon and stars. So he was going to sit on the stoop to Garret's office and wait…knowing the sight of her safe and sound would ease his mind considerable. He had been there a few minutes short of an hour when Garret rode up. "Morning, Marshal. Can I help you?"

"No…just waiting on Jordan."

Garret hid a smile to himself. It was becoming more and more apparent to everyone except maybe Woody and Jordan themselves that they were meant for each other. A perfect match of wills, Irish stubbornness…and deep affection. And if Woody had been waiting a while, it could only mean one thing…

"Did you hear from her at all yesterday?" Woody's question cut in on Garret's thoughts.

"No. Why?"

Woody stood from his seat on the stoop and walked in uneasy paces on the wooden sidewalk. "I don't know…with everything that is going on…I just am worried about her being on that claim by herself…"

"Jordan can take care of herself, Woody. I've seen the lady in action….on the battlefield. I've seen her deal with drunken soldiers, pushy officers, and belligerent doctors. She can stand her ground."

I know that all too well – up close and personal, but stand up against a gun? Woody thought and then shook himself. Nothing happened last night.

"Tell you what….why don't you come in here and I'll make us some coffee and you can wait on her in a comfortable chair. She's generally here about an hour behind me."

Woody nodded and followed Garret into the office, fighting the urge just simply to turn Chevelle to the northwest and ride out to meet her. She'd laugh at him….maybe even be mad at him for worrying so much, but frankly, he didn't give a damn. His dreams had been disturbing and lack of sleep had made him irritable…more so than usual, he thought. He accepted Garret's cup of coffee with a grimace.

Woody was obviously worried, Garret noted…to the point the marshal hadn't shaved or combed his hair this morning. It looked as if he simply rolled out of bed and made his way to the office…which was mostly true. "She'll be here in a few minutes," Garret said, trying to soothe him.

But Jordan wasn't. She wasn't there in an hour…or an hour and a half. Woody swallowed the last of his coffee. "Is she ever this late?"

"Not unless she's sent word that she's sick or gone to see a patient on the way in to work."

"Has she sent word?"

Garret shook his head.

Woody pulled on his Stetson. "Then I'm going out to Max's claim. Something doesn't feel right…"

"I think I'll join you, if you don't mind," Garret answered. "Give me a minute…" He hung the closed sign on the door and grabbed his hat as well. In a few minutes, the men had their horses riding at a gallop towards Max's house.

It looked quiet….ominously quiet…and dark. Woody climbed off Chevelle and tried the door. It wasn't locked and easily pushed open…with a sinking heart, he surveyed the sight. Overturned table, chairs….knickknacks scattered around as if a small twister had bolted through the house. Her workbasket turned upside down.

She had gone…but she didn't leave without a fight.

Neither did Sheriff Malden. Whoever it was that took Jordan had also shot the sheriff in the back and left him to die in Jordan's front parlor…and it looked like the repeating Henry beside him could be the murder weapon.

Jordan wearily raised her head from her chest and warily looked at her captors. It had been a long night. Jeffers and the other man, who she discovered was a Kevin Cahill, had overpowered her, took her gun, tied her up and rode her off the claim. With a sinking heart, she realized that it would be hours before Garret would even possibly realize she was missing. She had worked hard to keep her wits about her…thanking God for her battlefield experience. Her career as a nurse among some of the Union's and the Confederacy's roughest soldiers had honed her skills in that area.

They had taken her to a cabin somewhere…the best she could figure it was a little southeast of her father's claim, to an area she wasn't familiar with. They had questioned her for hours about Max while she was tied to a chair. Finally exhausted themselves, Cahill and Jeffers had fallen asleep in front of the fireplace, leaving Jordan tied, gagged, and alone with her thoughts.

They hadn't touched her. Not once…a fact that Jordan was very grateful for. That had been her worst nightmare…that her first encounter with a man would be a forced and brutal one. But with the way things were going now for her, she wondered if there would be a first time for her at all…and her thoughts drifted back to Woody. When Garret discovered she was missing, Jordan was sure that he'd go find Woody and the Marshal would begin looking for her.

But would he be able to find her? She had put up a struggle at the claim. It was more than apparent she didn't go willingly or easily. And Malden's dead body was bound to raise an alarm and a posse. She knew Woody would follow the horses' hoof prints…for as long as he could.

Would he get to her too late…despite his best efforts, would the Marshal get to her too late? He's a good man, Jordan. If something happens to me, go to Woody. You can trust him. Her father's words tripped through her mind one more time.

I do…I do trust him, she thought to herself. I just hope I'm able to see him again and let him know that…he may be leaving Tyler soon, but I need him to know…She tried to quash the fear rising in her throat as she saw her captors begin to stir with the early morning light. They didn't believe her last night as time after time she denied knowing where Max was and what, if anything, he knew about the gun smuggling. Finally Jeffers grew angry with her. Jordan tried to hide the fear in her eyes when the he stood and stretched, turning his attention towards Jordan. "Good morning, Miss Cavanaugh. I hope you slept well…because today I have to finish what I started with you."

Jordan's eyes grew rounder as the man stepped toward her and flicked out his Bowie knife. Woody…I need you now…where are you?

"They went this way," Woody told Garret, after examining the hoof prints in the paddock. "And there's at least two of them, maybe three…it's hard to tell."

"Southeast…." Garret muttered. "What the hell are they doing going that way?"

"What's out there, Doc?"

"Not a whole lot….sagebrush, a few scrub trees…mainly wilderness. It could take…" Garret's voice faded off. Woody knew how that sentence would have ended. It could take days, weeks, even months, to find her…if we ever do.

Suddenly Garret's lips twisted into a grimace. "But there are a few abandoned mine shacks out there…"

"Show me," Woody directed, kicking Chevelle into a full run.

Garret led Woody to the area where the nearest abandoned mine shack was. Woody cautiously circled it from a distance, trying to get a glimpse of anything that would lead him to think that Jordan was there…if she had been there at all.

"Woody," Garret's sharp call caught his attention at once. His eyes followed the direction that Garret was pointing to…a bluff in the distance…one with a tree…one with Jordan and two men on horseback. Woody watched in horror as the men threw a rope with a noose on it across the branch and then placed it over Jordan's neck. Swallowing his horror and raising his rifle, he waited until he could get a clear shot…one with Jordan out of range. The men slapped Camino to make him start and run while at the same time riding out of the way themselves.

The marshal fired off two quick shots…one of the bullets took out one of the men….and the other one sliced the rope into that was hanging Jordan by the neck.

From that point on, everything seemed to go in slow motion for Woody. He saw Cahill's body arch and fall off his horse…he saw Jordan hang suspended from the noose for a moment and then the rope was cut and she fell hard to the ground. Jeffers had completely disappeared.

It only took a second for someone's neck to snap when they were hung…Woody rode Chevelle frantically to Jordan praying for the best, but expecting the worse. "Jordan….Jordan…" he said once he reached her, a crumpled heap on the dry, Texas earth. He gently turned her over. "Jordan…Jo?" Relief was nowhere near an apt description of what he felt when he saw the slight rise and fall of her chest.

"Loosen her blouse," Garret told him, coming up from behind. "The neck part…let's see what kind of damage we have."

With fumbling fingers, Woody cut the noose from her neck and slid the top four buttons of her shirt open, revealing a nasty rope burn marring her fair skin. He knew that shortly bruising would begin to bloom around it, leaving not only her neck injured, but also her throat painfully sore. He left her for a minute and went back over to his horse, returning with a canteen and a clean bandana. Dampening the cloth with some water, he gingerly dabbed the affected area clean and was rewarded with a groan from her. "Jordan? Jordan…can you hear me?"

She did. She heard him and the near panic in his voice. Her eyes fluttered open then shut briefly against the Texas sun. "You found me," she said in a hoarse whisper.

"Of course…" He tenderly lifted her into a sitting position. "We need to let Garret have a look at you, Jo."

"Hey Jordan. Give you one day off and see what kind of trouble you get into?" Garret softly teased, examining her neck. There was swelling and bruising…and she was going to be sore, but as far as he could tell, that was it. "No broken bones," he said to Woody, "but we need to get her back into town so she can rest and recuperate."

Woody nodded, noting that Jordan was shivering in the hot Texas sun. He had seen soldiers do that on a battlefield after being injured…begin shivering in response to the trauma they endured. Doctors called it shock. Woody just knew he had to keep her warm. "Hand me that blanket off the back roll of Chevelle," he told Garret.

Wrapping her up, he lifted her in his arms and stood. "Let's get her back quick…I don't like being out here with Jeffers running loose." He lifted Jordan into his saddle and then swung in behind her, cradling her against him, blanket and all. He rode with her like that all the way back to Tyler, noting every rise and fall of her chest, how the bruises were beginning to show on her neck. How one of her hands clutched the front of his shirt like she was never going to let him go. He gently raised that hand to his lips and kissed the rough skin. Her eyelids fluttered open and her cheeks flushed before she buried her head in his chest. "I've got you, Jordan. Nothing like this is ever going to happen to you again. You can trust me."

She had never felt safer in her life than she did that moment in his arms. Safe. Secure. Perhaps even loved. "I know," she whispered back in a hoarse voice. "I know."