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“What are you going to do?” one of the men asked as he stood up and gazed at him. “Why now?”
Jeremiah did not want his wives to know what he had on his mind—the welfare of the pretty woman from the stagecoach—so he did not even give them a glance as he stepped away from the table.
“Those of you who want to join me, come outside and I shall explain my plan to you,” Jeremiah said brusquely. “But I only need a few. The rest should stay behind and protect our women and children. Who is to say whether our community might be the next to be killed off?”
The women gasped at that statement, and some of the smallest children began to cry.
“We must face reality,” Jeremiah said, sorry to see that what he had said had upset the women and children. “There are those who do not enjoy seeing a prosperous community. They are the sort who do not know how to be successful themselves. It is that kind who kills without feeling. It is that kind we must protect ourselves from.”
He looked around at the men. “Come now, those who will ride with me today,” he said tightly. “Come outside and I will tell you my plan.”
Jeremiah led the way as those who would ride with him followed.
The others stayed behind in the dining hall, already discussing amongst themselves what they must do to protect their wives and children.
Outside the dining hall, out of earshot of his two wives, Jeremiah gathered the men around him. “On our way to Hope, there was a woman in the stagecoach,” he said, moving his eyes slowly from man to man. “Her destination was Tyler City. In fact, the town was named after her family. She was a fragile-appearing woman who would not be able to fend for herself alone in the world. You know that no lady, especially one as tiny and fragile in appearance as that young woman, can survive, alone. Think about your wives. Should they be parted from you, do you think they would have the skills to survive?”
Each man shook his head.
“And so do you agree that we must go to rescue this young lady, who may be out there alone, afraid, and helpless?” Jeremiah asked, not giving even a hint of the true reason that he wanted to find her.
Although she was petite, the girl had not truly looked fragile in an
y other way. He was just saying that in order to make the men feel sorry for her enough to go and seek her out.
The very moment she had stepped into the coach, he had been attracted to her. He had seen her as someone who would make him the perfect third wife.
She was so young and healthy, surely she could bear him a son…perhaps many!
He just hoped and prayed that she was still alive and that he and his friends could find her. If they did, they would invite her to return to Hope with them.
Although Jeremiah’s true need of her was to bear him sons, he would tell her that she was welcome in their town, and that she could use her skills as a teacher, instructing the children.
Thus far, no teachers had agreed to come to Hope.
If this woman, whose name he now recalled was Nicole, was rescued, wouldn’t she be more than willing to remain in Hope as their teacher, and then…later…become a wife to one of the community’s most upstanding citizens?
After the men agreed that Nicole was worth looking for and saving, they readied themselves with firearms and then went to the corral for their horses.
Jeremiah felt eyes on him as he rode from the town. He turned and saw his two wives standing at the edge of Hope, hand in hand, watching as he rode out, possibly to his death.
He had thought of that, himself, but each man was well equipped now with a rifle in his gun boot or at the side of his horses. He had plenty of backup.
They also had said a silent prayer before mounting their steeds.
Jeremiah looked away from his wives and gazed straight ahead again, hoping by nightfall he would be still alive, and that he would have saved a woman whom he already thought of as his.
Chapter Nine
Her heart pounding hard, her breath now coming in short, frightened gulps, Nicole felt glued to the spot as she recalled the last few minutes.
“Leave,” the Indian had commanded, gazing into her eyes while he gripped her wrist. “Go away. Leave now, or you will die.”
Nicole’s pulse had raced at that spoken threat.
She’d looked quickly at his rifle, which was too far for him to reach. Then her eyes had settled on the knife that was sheathed at his waist. Again she’d looked at his eyes. Slowly, they had closed, and his grip on her wrist had lessened until finally his hand fell away.
She knew that she should take this opportunity to jump up, mount her horse and ride away, but as she saw it, he was no threat at all to her. Although his grip on her wrist had been strong enough, she still didn’t believe that he had the strength it would take to harm her.
