"Rosie. Honey, slow down," Lee called out for his wife as she raced through his office and began to rummage through the pockets of his coat hanging on the rack, "what are you doing?"
She didn't even look up to speak to him, ever focused on her task, "I need the engine key, I have to drive out to the mines now."
Lee's eyes narrowed, "I'm sorry, what?"
"The mines, Lee," Rosemary's tone was even and calm, and it set Lee's teeth on edge.
"Why on earth do you -"
"Just give me the blasted key, Lee!"
Rosemary whipped her head around to finally face her husband, concern and anger clearly written across his face.
Any other day, she would immediately apologize for her abrupt behavior. Beg forgiveness for her ghastly manors and unkind tone of voice. But she didn't have time for any of that. There was far too much at stake to worry about etiquette and feelings at a time like this.
"Rosie," Lee's voice was so soft… too soft and full of hurt for her to bear, "what is going on?"
Rosemary took a painful breath, the words already piling up in the back of throat like bile, "Charles took Elizabeth."
Lee could hear the blood rush from his head, whirring in his ears like the ocean in a sea shell against his ear. Fear pushed the air out of his lungs and some hideous, malevolent emotion colored his vision with a murderous red… "what did you say?"
"I saw Charles grab Elizabeth at the schoolhouse and drag her off to God knows where. I need the car to go the mines and tell Jack. He has to know Lee. We have to -"
Rosemary didn't get a chance to finish her sentence before her husband was shoving the iron crank engine key into her slender, steady hands. And suddenly, Lee was shoving his coat on and walking out the door.
"Where are you going?"
"To get Carson and make sure Tom and Joshua are alright."
Oh god, Tom. Rosemary hadn't even thought about the younger Thornton. He would have been with Joshua when he confronted Charles. He wouldn't have let Charles go. Something…
"Something went wrong," Lee voiced her treacherous thought, "I need to make sure they're both okay."
He opened the door swiftly before turning around to face Rosemary.
The two gazed at each other for just a moment. And suddenly, Lee was pulling Rosemary or Rosemary was pulling at Lee… neither could seem to figure out who…into a brief, fierce kiss that ended just as quickly as it had begun.
"Go get Jack," Lee's whispered, clearly out of breath, "and be safe."
"I will."
"I mean it, Rosemary."
"I will. Go get Carson. Make sure Tom is okay. Don't you dare do anything heroic."
"I won't."
"Lee," Rosemary's lip trembled, "I mean it."
He pulled her in for another kiss before racing out of his office and sprinting into town.
Rosemary wasted no time and running down the stairs and over to where the car was parked just to the left of the saw mill office. She placed the crank key in its slot, pulled down on the choke and with a strong turn of the crank and a quick pull of the spark, the engine roared to life….
Looking back, Carson should have known better.
He should have sensed the bitterness in the air as he took a long sip of his piping hot cup of coffee. He should have taken note of the crippling maleficence that coated the surface of each and every building like the rich, bitter taste of the roasted beans that coated his mouth. He should have felt the cold touch of avarice and greed that crept in through the small crack under the infirmary door like he felt the warmth of the dark liquid settle into his heart.
But it had been such a peaceful morning, full of easy check ups and simple diagnoses. Faith had even asked him to a late lunch at the cafe. The gesture seemingly small on her part, but it was a massive opening, a tentative and vulnerable invitation to explore the feelings they'd both been burying for quite some time.
He should have seen it coming.
He should have known that Lee would come bursting into the infirmary, begging him to travel down to the railroad in search of Tom Thornton and Joshua Chang. He should have prepared himself for Charles Kensington's dreaded return to Hope Valley and the chaos that would ensue. He should have prepared himself for the sight of a bloated and broken Joshua Chang, already dead from the snap of his neck by forceful, murderous hands. Dr. Carson Shepherd should have been ready for the broken mess of Tom Thornton, his bruised face and bloody hairline.
"Oh my God," Lee gasped as he opened the tent flap.
"Go get Nurse Carter," Carson ordered, "now, Lee!"
Lee turned immediately, pushing past the crowd gathering by the tent, "Get out of the way!"
Carson ran his hands along Joshua's neck and wrist, checking for any signs of life.
No pulse.
There was nothing to do for the young man now but to pray for his soul… but Carson didn't have the time to spare.
He shuffled over on his knees to Tom's prone body, searching his neck and wrist for a pulse.
thump…
thump, thump…
thump…
Erratic and weak. Not a good sign.
Carson took notice of the blood pooling on the ground at the base of Tom's skull. Fluid, clean and clear was draining from his ears.
"Tom," Carson's voice was calm, steady, and stern, "Thomas Thornton, can you wake up for me?"
A faint groan escaped the young man's lips.
"Come on Tom," Carson encouraged, "wake up, son. I need you to look at me."
Tom's eyelids gave way, opening slowly before narrowing at the garish light coming in through the crack in the tent.
It was all Carson needed.
He pulled Tom's eyelids open, forcing a pained groan from Tom and a pathetic attempt to push Carson's hands away from his battered face.
"I need to see your pupils, Tom. Now hold still."
"… hurts," Tom murmured, still trying to fight Carson's grip.
"I know, son. I know. Just open your eyes for me for just a moment and I promise you can close them again. Just don't go to sleep on me, alright?"
A weak grunt sufficed as Tom's confirmation to stay awake.
Carson watched as Tom attempted to open his eyes further for the doctor, confirming Carson's fear. There was practically no iris to speak of… only a black pupil. Suddenly Tom was wide awake as he dry heaved across Carson's shoes.
"That's okay, Tom," Carson rubbed the young man's back, "just don't fall asleep."
"Carson."
The doctor whipped his head to look over his shoulder to see Faith pushing her way past the crowd and into the tent. He watched as the blood rushed from her face, leaving her sun kissed complexion pale and ghostly. Joshua's body was already beginning to turn blue as rigor mortis set in. He'd been dead far longer than Carson could begin to think about. The poor boy must have felt so alone.
"Is it a brain bleed?" Faith's voice was much closer now. She was kneeling beside him, her eyes studying Tom's injuries, cataloguing each and every symptom while waiting for his diagnosis. She really should be a doctor.
A painful grimace was etched onto the doctor's face as he contemplated the best course of action. He glanced between Tom and Faith for just a moment.
"Yes," Carson whispered.
He watched as the words sunk in and Faith began to quickly piece together the best course of action.
"Would a small incision do?"
Carson shook his head, regret settling deep into his bones, "His pupils are fully dilated. Fluid is coming from his ears and now his nose. And he's already vomited. There's swelling around the eyes which means there's already pressure building. We need to create burr holes. I'm afraid if we don't he may start to seize."
"We can't move him, Carson. We might do further damage."
"We have to do it here. You and Lee go back to the infirmary, get fresh linens for the cot and bandages for the procedure. Plenty of packing. Get the ether, antiseptic, and the surgical equipment."
Faith nodded, standing up quickly, "I'll also bring you your other pair of shoes."
Tom turned on his side to vomit again.
"That's just fine, Tom. Just stay awake."
"Someone needs to tell Julie," Lee shouted out to Faith as the raced through the rail camp and back into town.
"You can as soon as you help me gather everything we need."
"Faith-"
"You can as soon as you're done helping me, Lee. But every minute we waste arguing about it is crucial to Tom surviving. So for right now, shut up, and do exactly as I say. Understood?"
Lee nodded silently, chasing after Nurse Carter as she raced into the infirmary.
The clatter of his horse's hooves against the tightly packed dirt road thundered in his ears as he pushed the beast to the breaking point. His heart hammered in his chest and pounded in his head, causing the blood to rush far too quickly through his veins, leaving him with a terrible headache and tight chest.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Passing out isn't going to do anyone any good.
Breath in. Breath out.
What he wouldn't give to have Sergeant with him. The beast was more than a horse. The two had become an extension of each other, a fluid partnership of grace and power and sheer will that had accomplished unthinkable feats in dire situations. What he wouldn't give to have his friend with him, driving him home to find the solution to the source of dread settling into his heart.
The ghastly blare of a car horn startled Jack's horse and nearly threw him off as the driver of the modern monstrosity shouted out, "JACK!"
Jack's eyes narrowed at the sight in front of him.
"ROSEMARY? What the hell are you doing?"
"Jack," Rosemary's voice was tight, breathless and full of dread, "he took Elizabeth."
The sound of it was too painful for Jack to begin to even think about.
"Charles," he replied. It wasn't a question.
Rosemary gave a sharp nod.
Jack's eyes narrowed. His breath grew shallow. His jaw clenched so tightly that she could practically hear his teeth grinding each other into a fine dust. The silence between them stretched on for several seconds… minutes… hours?
"Jack," Rosemary started.
"Go home, Rosemary. I'll take care of him once and for all."
"Jack," she spoke softly, calmly, "I know you're angry. But you're not doing this alone. You have help. You need to-"
"What I need," Jack growled, "is for you to go back to town and stay there. I don't need to worry about anyone else and you'd only-"
"Don't you dare finish that sentence, Jack," Rosemary growled back.
"THAT BASTARD TOOK MY WIFE ROSEMARY!"
"ELIZABETH MY BE YOUR WIFE JACK, BUT SHE IS ALSO MY BEST FRIEND!"
A heavy silence fell between them both as they caught their breath.
And suddenly, maybe for the first time since Jack had come home, Rosemary truly looked at Jack Thornton. His features were pinched and tears welled up in his stormy hazel eyes. Weeks old blue circles that were just beginning to fade sat underneath his eyes. Several days worth of stubble covered his cheeks that were still slightly too sunken in comparison to his countenance before the Northern Territories.
Elizabeth had confided her worry over Jack. His lack of sleep, his constant nightmares… but she'd refused to see it it. Refused to admit just how much the Northern Territories had broken her friend. How deeply his faith in so many things had been so badly shattered. The man before her was one who'd become too well acquainted with death, too acutely aware of the weight of the weight of it. Jack Thornton had faced the loss of all he held dear far too many times in one lifetime… and he could see it all slipping through his fingers yet again….
The entire time she'd known him, Jack Thornton had been a pillar of strength and calm. His presence of steady courage and gentle grace. To see it so close to breaking…Rosemary felt a small piece of her shatter along side him as tears welled up in her eyes.
She took a deep breath.
"Jack, I'm not going to just sit by and do nothing. So either tell me how to help or as God as my witness I will go after Charles Kensington myself."
Jack grimaced, his eyes darting back and forth from Rosemary's face to the path leading to crowded streets of Hope Valley. His mind was racing… his heart was racing faster.
God, he couldn't think straight. A panic settled deep in his chest that he hadn't felt since the ambush all those months ago that had nearly ripped him from this world… from Elizabeth and Thatcher and -
"Jack," Rosemary nearly whispered, catching Jack off guard. His gaze snapped back to his friend, her stare calm and steady, "just tell me what to do."
What to do, what to do… "I need you to find Thatcher…and Tom, make sure they're safe."
"Okay."
Jack gritted his teeth. Dammit, not yet.
"But get Jeremiah and Gowen first. Tell them to meet me at the schoolhouse," Jack said over his shoulder, already mounting his horse.
Rosemary's nose scrunched up in confusion, "the schoolhouse?"
"Elizabeth wouldn't have gone with Charles unless she knew I could find her. She'll have left a clue, a sign, something to tell me where they've gone. Tell Jeremiah and Gowen to meet me there. Then find Thatcher and stay with him. Please stay with him, Rosie. Please."
"Of course, Jack. You can count on me."
"I know I can."
She knew he meant it.
An attempt of a smile, pained and small, flashed across his face before delivering a sharp kick to his horse's ribs, causing the beast to take off like a shot.
Constable Nathaniel Roy stretched his arms out wide, his lower back cracking as he gave a sharp twist at the waist. God it felt so good to finally get off the train. He watched the passengers exiting their cabins and stepping onto the exit platform, his studied gaze carefully hidden as a passing curiosity for the activity around him. The air smelled of coal and smoke and too many people crammed together in too small a space.
"I hate trains," Sergeant VanNoppen grumbled as he swung his ruck sack over his shoulder, "too damn crowded."
Roy gave a quick grin as he picked up his own pack, "I guess we've found something we can finally agree on, Sergeant. Trains are absolutely horrid."
"Give me a good horse any day of the week," VanNoppen quietly concurred with the young constable.
"Well how about we go into town and get our horses from the livery. We can stop by the jail house and see if the Captain needs any help filling out the paperwork for Kensington's arrest?"
VanNoppen grunted as he stepped off the exit platform, Nathaniel following close behind.
"All in all I'd rather take the train ride back to Fort Saint John."
"Surely you can't hate paperwork that much."
"If someone had told me that half of a Mountie's job was actually paperwork, I'd have quit in the middle of academy training."
"And taken a sixteen hour train ride back to Fort Saint John?"
"In a damn heartbeat."
Nathaniel belted out a hearty laugh, the depth of it growing at the sight of VanNoppen's annoyed scowl.
"I'll make you a deal," the constable tried to contain his laughter, "I'll help with the paper work so long as you teach me your, 'secret, foolproof method for starting a fire.'"
VanNoppen gave a quick nod, "You've got yourself a deal, Constable Roy. Now let's go help Jack with that paperwork. And maybe we can take a swing or two at that Kensington."
"Sounds like as good a plan as any."
The two Mounties laughed as they began to walk back into Hope Valley's town square.
The sound of his boots hitting the hardwood floor of the schoolhouse kept time with the pounding of his heart that he could feel throbbing in his head and thundering in his ears. His stormy hazel eyes darted across the room, taking in every detail, anything that was out of place that could provide the clue he was so sure she'd left.
Marked essays and exams lay scattered across her desk and the floor. Her chair had been turned over and lay haphazardly on its side. The cowbell he'd gifted to her so many years ago, the one she used every morning to call school into session and announce the return from recess, rested beside her chair.
Bile collected in his throat at the sight. It was clear that Elizabeth had fought back against her assailant and Jack didn't know whether to feel proud of just how fearsome and strong his wife was, or terrified of how Charles had so clearly reacted to her defiance.
Jack didn't know if Charles was armed, if he was violent… if he had taken any of the drugs he had been supplying to the runners in Northern Territories. He'd seen just how wild reckless the men who used them could become.
He rummaged through the drawers of her desk. No. She wouldn't have had time to put anything in there. Not without Charles seeing. Jack looked under her desk for anything she might have dropped. She would have made sure you'd find it quickly.Jack huffed in frustration.
"Come on, Elizabeth," Jack muttered madly, "what did you leave for me?"
Jack's gaze narrowed, eyes refocused as he searched across her desk for the clue he knew she'd left behind, "Come on, darlin'."
A bright spot of red ink in the top corner of a partially graded essay caught his attention. Elizabeth never used red to mark essays. The ink was too expensive and she was notorious for marking the slightest grammatical error. He could count on one hand the number of times he'd seen her use the color.
Jack bent over the desk and pushed the papers laying on top of the essay to further inspect the conspicuous mark, boldly underlined so as not to understate its importance. He could almost see it now, Elizabeth sitting at her desk, calm and collected as Charles approached her… refusing to give him the satisfaction of showing any fear. He could practically hear the dull scratch of the red fountain pen (that he now saw broken and leaking on the floor) as she pulled it quickly and decisively across the paper. Jack could have painted or sketched the gears and cogs whirring in her mind as Elizabeth jotted down her clue while forming a plan to manipulate Charles into taking her to the desired location:
GONE TO THE MANOR
"You're a wonder," Jack whispered before pulling out a fresh sheet of paper from the side desk drawer and writing his own note. There was no telling when Jeremiah or Gowen or anyone else would ride up to the school house… and there was no time to waste.
Without a second glance, Jack sprinted out the side door of the school house and mounted his horse.
"SERGEANT VANNOPPEN! CONSTABLE ROY!"
Nathaniel whipped his head around to see Lee Coulter sprinting to them from the infirmary entrance… Lee Coulter?
"Mr. Coulter! What's wrong?" Sergeant VanNoppen, catching Lee as he slid to a halt in front of them.
"Charles…" Lee took a painful breath, "Charles attacked Joshua and Tom Thornton. Joshua is dead and Tom is about to go into emergency surgery."
"WHAT?!" Constable Roy bellowed.
"And he took Elizabeth from the schoolhouse."
"How do you know this? Why didn't you do anything?" VanNoppen questioned.
"I didn't see it. My wife saw him dragging her from the schoolhouse. She rode out to the mines to find Jack. I'm helping Nurse Carter gather supplies for the surgery."
"When did she leave for the mines," Nathaniel asked.
"About a half hour ago."
Nathaniel nodded, "Wait... why is Nurse Carter taking supplies from the infirmary?"
Lee grimaced and flash of an all too familiar emotion flashed across his face. Sergeant Mattie VanNoppen knew that look, had seen it on nearly every Mountie's face he'd come across while fighting in the Northern Territories. He'd worn that expression more times than he could count.
"Where are Dr. Shepherd and Tom," VanNoppen's asked, his voice cold and detached.
"At the railway workers camp. If they move him, he could die before he even gets to the infirmary. They're doing… they're going to do brain surgery on him in a damn tent. Charles… he, he snapped Joshua's neck and he beat Tom senseless."
"LEE!"
Nurse Carter's sharp, commanding voice drew the attention of the three men, "I've got everything packed! I need your help carrying it back."
"Is there anything we can do, Nurse Carter?"
Faith looked back over her shoulder, "Do either of you have experience in field surgery?"
"I've assisted in some emergency operations in the Northern Territories," VanNoppen spoke out, already walking to the infirmary entrance, "some amputations and gun shot wound closures."
Faith gave a quick nod, "take that crate on the bed and follow me."
VanNoppen followed orders and picked up the crate, full of gauze and packing and an unopened medical bottle of ether.
"I'll ride out to the schoolhouse to meet up with Jack," Nathaniel shouted over his shoulder, already running to the livery to fetch his horse.
"The schoolhouse?" VanNoppen questioned.
"It would only have taken Mrs. Coulter fifteen minutes, driving at a safe speed to get to the mines. She would have already told Jack about Charles and Elizabeth. The schoolhouse is the next logical place to look for him."
VanNoppen nodded in agreement.
"Be careful, Nate. Strike true."
"Where is it?" Charles snarled as he pulled out the last drawer from the desk, already walking over to the overstuffed built in bookcases on the far wall, effectively blocking the only entrance or exit to the room.
"This is the last place I know of that he'd left it," Elizabeth spoke calmly, her composed countenance never once betraying the terror that had settled in her heart.
Charles began to tear books off the shelves, desperate to find his missing cufflink hiding in a false book or behind one of the endless volumes stacked on the shelves. Elizabeth moved out of the path of a few flying publications as Charles chucked them over his shoulder, muttering under his breath. How long will it take him to catch on, she thought. How long until he realizes I lied.
Elizabeth took another step to dodge another book and suddenly she was so close to the doorway that a single sprint would take her out of the study. She glanced over at Charles to see if he'd noticed her proximity to the entrance but he was still engrossed in his useless search.
She took another step, ever closer to her escape….
A strong arm flashed across the doorway, blocking her path.
"Where the hell do you think you're going?"
Elizabeth valiantly tried to keep her face impassive, but something must have shown. A quick flash of fear or a twitch of uncertainty must have shown because the next thing she knew, Charles' closed fist collided with her cheek.
The air rushed from her lungs as Elizabeth fell through the doorway and onto the hallway floor. A burning pain radiated from the skin of her cheek, already bruising as the bone underneath throbbed horribly. Elizabeth glanced up just in time to miss another hit from his unforgiving fist. Her stormy blue eyes glanced to see the shine of his knife in the other hand.
She wasted no time in scurrying across the floor and flinging herself upright and back on her feet to take off and run out the front door.
Only for Charles to grab her hair to pull her back against him, the cold metal of his knife already under her throat.
"You're going to get me that cufflink, Mrs. Thornton, or I'll cut you here and now and all that will be left for Jack to find is your bloody corpse."
"Charles," Elizabeth started.
"The next words out of your goddamn mouth better be where to find it, Elizabeth."
"She doesn't have it."
Elizabeth's gaze darted to the front door… oh thank God.
Captain Jack Thornton stood strong and sure, his gun and gaze trained sharply on Charles' head.
"Jack," Charles' voice dripped with venom, "what an unexpected pleasure to have you with us. Elizabeth and I were just talking about you."
He pressed the smooth, cool side of his knife against the skin of Elizabeth's neck. She did her best not to flinch, not to avert her gaze from the man standing in front of them.
"You have a choice to make, Thornton," Charles practically snarled as he tightened his grip on her arm and pressed the blade closer to her skin, "you can put down your gun or I'll kill her. I swear to God, I will."
"Jack," Elizabeth spoke quietly, "don't."
Charles tightened his grip on her arm, his fingers pressing hard onto the tender bruises that had already begun to form. His shoved his knife up under jaw, the metal of the blade unbearably cold against her skin.
"You always were one to offer input where it's not wanted, Elizabeth."
"Go to hell," Elizabeth growled as Charles tightened his grip on her arm once again, no doubt causing the bruises to deepen and darken on her skin.
Charles clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth, "You never used to talk this way, Miss Thatcher. Must be the influence of your… Mountie."
"What do you want," Jack's violent eyes and gun were trained on Charles' face as he tried to find a clean shot. But the man was using Elizabeth too effectively as a shield.
"Put your gun down," Charles repeated his earlier demand, "and slide it over to me."
"And then what?"
"And then Elizabeth and I will be on our way."
A mirthless smirk flashed across Jack's lips, "You're not going anywhere with her."
Charles grinned right back, "I will. And you'll let me. The alternative is slitting her throat," Charles dug the edge of his knife in just a little bit harder into the skin under Elizabeth's jaw, "right here. Right now. "
Jack watched as blood began to trickle down Elizabeth's throat.
Julie Thatcher hated running. Always had. She hated how her face would turn a blotchy red as she gasped for air. She hated how out of place her hair would get as the wind cut through it. She hated the jolt her heart would give whenever some caught her at tag or hide-and-seek. She hated how everyone always seemed to be faster than her.
And God, didn't she feel that way now, as she raced to the railroad camp. Why did time always faster? Her feet couldn't seem to catch quickly enough on the firm ground beneath them. How did it seem to catch her and steal the air from her lungs? She couldn't seem to move through the maddening crowd around the tent.
Tears welled up in her eyes and fear gripped her throat.
"Please," she gasped, "please let me get through."
No one seemed to hear her or care to listen to her painful plea.
"MOVE!"
The shout shocked Julie back to her senses as a strong, gentle hand gripped her shoulder and wrist, leading her through a quickly parting sea of people. She glanced over to see Lee guiding her through, shouting out for workers and unbearably nosy onlookers to move or be moved, announcing that she was Tom's fiancé… Tom. TOM.
Suddenly, she was staring at the front of the makeshift surgery tent. She was watching Sergeant VanNoppen order a few railway workers about as they threw wood on a blazing fire where multiple pots of water boiled. She looked on as he yelled for someone to go back to the infirmary to gather more bandages and if anyone had any alcohol to use as a disinfectant. She stared helplessly as he stormed back into the tent, the flap opening enough for Julie to see Dr. Shepherd with blood covered hands and Nurse Carter working frantically beside him.
"Lee," was all she could whisper.
"I'm right here, Julie," Lee answered, "Clara has Thatcher. Jack is going to get Elizabeth. And Tom is in the best hands possible. Just keep thinking that. Saying that. I'm right here with you."
All Julie could do was nod.
Clara has Thatcher. Jack is going to get Elizabeth. Tom is in the best hands possible. And I'm going to kill Charles Kensington with my bare hands.
If Jack doesn't, I am going to kill Charles with my bare hands….
He pressed the knife's edge closer to her skin, drawing a pained hiss from Elizabeth as the small cut on the underside of her jaw tore open further. She watched as Jack's steady gaze faltered, his eyes shifting from Charles to her and then to look past them both. She saw him searching for a way out, for an answer to an impossible question. Except Elizabeth knew the answer… and she knew it would kill him to do it….
Please Jack.. please just look at me.
As if he heard her silent plea, Jack's eyes moved back to her face and his gaze focused once more. She smiled sweetly at him, tears welling in her eyes.
It's alright. It's going to be alright.
And for an all too brief, beautiful moment, his eyes settled back onto Elizabeth and softened and he was her Jack again. Love and warmth and care radiated from his gaze and an overwhelming sense of peace flooded through her.
"Don't believe that I'll do it? Maybe you should go ask your brother if I'm bluffing. If he's even alive to talk."
She never thought she'd see Jack's hazel eyes grow a deep, murderous gray. That beautiful, loving gaze turn and fill with determination and some unnamed emotion that sent a painful jolt of fear down her spine…. Elizabeth never thought she'd ever hear his voice grow so cold and sharp. … so different from the warm timbre she was accustomed to.
"So help me, God," Jack snarled, "there will not be a place in this world you can hide from me, Charles. If you've killed him… if you hurt her. As God as my witness, I will hunt you down like the animal you are. You'll never get the chance to face a judge."
Charles clicked his tongue, "Now Captain Thornton… that's not very sporting of you."
Charles moved his hand around Elizabeth's arm to curl around her neck. The feel of his skin on hers made her stomach churn, "What do you think, Beth? Do you think your God-fearing, justice loving Mountie would really stoop so low as to kill a man without a fair trial?"
"I think you'd be an idiot to not believe that my husband means what he says," Elizabeth had no difficulty in calling out Charles' obvious attempt to provoke them both into reckless action.
She trained her attention on Jack, begging him not to give in to Charles' baseless, hateful speech. The turmoil was so clearly etched into every wonderful contour of his face. The months of self doubt and self-hatred bubbling up inside him with such force that his normally sun-kissed skin had turned a sickly shade of white. Jack looked past her and Charles once again with something like resolve replaced fury and fear in his face. And just as quickly, Jack disappeared behind the carefully constructed shield of Captain Thornton. His attention snapped back to Charles as he spoke.
"The choice is yours, Thornton… and the clock is ticking."
Jack grimaced, the muzzle of his gun wavering and lowering slightly. She watched as his eyes narrowed, like they always did when he concentrated too hard on anything. She studied the way his jaw clenched painfully as a look of devastation flashed across his face. But Elizabeth didn't look away, only continued to scream out in her mind, begging him to hear her silent words. I'll be alright. It will all be alright.
"Alright," Jack raised his hand slowly, as he crouched down and to set his gun gently to the hardwood floor, "alright."
Elizabeth's eyes closed painfully as she watched him slide his gun across the floor to Charles feet. A murderous gleam sparkled in his eye as he shoved Elizabeth to the wall, his knife still pointed dangerously towards her, as he picked up Jack's revolver. Jack and Elizabeth watched as Charles pulled back the hammer with a sharp click.
"Can I offer you a piece of advice, Captain," Charles said, sarcasm and arrogance dripping from his mouth, "never give away your gun to a criminal."
Jack's gaze narrowed in response, "Small bit of advice, Charles. Never turn your back to the door."
Elizabeth's eyes flashed from Charles to Jack to the door that lead to the back porch.
BANG!
Charles dropped to the ground, wailing in agony, as he dropped his knife to grip the sudden, gaping hole in his thigh. Blood gushed from the wound as quickly as Jack sprinted to the flailing criminal.
"Elizabeth, go!"
Elizabeth looked up as Constable Roy burst through the door, his revolver still smoking slightly.
She gave a quick glance to Jack who'd kicked his revolver away from Charles and was attempting to hold him down and cuff him.
"Elizabeth, go!" Jack repeated.
She hesitated for a moment before walking toward the front door.
Elizabeth watched everything play out in front of her at an agonizing half pace. She was watching Constable Roy holster his revolver. She stared helplessly as Charles reached for the forgotten knife, the villainous metal glinting in the light of the setting sun, its sharp tip racing towards Jack's back. She stared as her own hand picked up and readied her husband's discarded revolver, watched her fingers pull back the hammer and squeeze the trigger with deft precision and shoot Charles Kensington in the head.
She watched as the knife aimed at her husband's heart fell and clattered against the hardwood floor along with the blood of the man she'd once loved like a brother.
She watched as Jack and Nathaniel realized too soon and far too late what had just happened.
And suddenly, Jack was pulling the gun from her hand and wrapping her up in his safe, comforting embrace, "Breathe, Elizabeth. Please, darlin', just breathe with me."
When had she started shaking? When had she stopped breathing?
Right around the time I killed Charles Kensington, she thought bitterly...
