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“You saw him?” Donaldson asked, whipping his head around. “Can you be sure?”
“I saw them both,” Samuel said, still searching and taking a few steps to one side then the other.
No. No!
He’d lost them.
He swept his gaze over the snow-sopped ground, hoping to recognize their tracks. But with the rally-goers stomping every which way it was impossible to distinguish one footprint from the next.
“There! Could that be them?” Donaldson pointed to two figures arguing near a small home amidst the towering trees way beyond town.
From such a distance it would be hard to tell, and the darkness didn’t help. He squinted, his breath racing. It had to be them!
Samuel ran. Donaldson followed. As they neared, he skidded to a halt.
The scene unfolding before his view seemed surreal. Though he was close enough to see them clearly, their voices only teased him, he couldn’t make out their exact words. Watson grabbed Eliza and pressed her against him, kissing her square on the mouth. Samuel clutched the pistol at his side. He froze with utter shock, unable to make his heavy legs move from their spot.
His stomach lurched to his neck and wedged there like a chunk of lead.
No! This cannot be happening!
Samuel tried to read Eliza’s reactions. Was Watson forcing himself on her? The longer they kissed,
the more he realized how real her reaction was. The way she moved her arms around him and pressed into him answered his question.
She wanted it.
He snapped his head at Donaldson who stared with the same look of shock that owned every inch of Samuel’s soul.
He looked again at the entwining forms. “Get out of here,” he said to Donaldson in a low tone.
“But, Captain—“
“Leave me be!” Samuel whispered as he whirled and shoved the soldier away, causing him to stumble backward.
Donaldson’s eyes thinned and he pinched his mouth tight as he looked from the kissing pair back to Samuel. “As you wish.”
Samuel looked back at Eliza and Watson, still holding each other close.
His heart burst in his chest, sending a thousand nails scraping through his veins. The terrible scene before him began to swirl. He clutched his mouth, stifling a groan.
He moved behind the trunk of a large tree. Shaking his head and rubbing his eyes, hoping his fears somehow invented the sight.
When he looked again, her hands were still around Watson and her face tilted upward as she spoke to him.
That errant devil must have some wicked hold upon her to make her act in such a way. Eliza loved him. They were to be married. All these years he’d dreamed about her as his wife. They’d talked of their future together, and at great length. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—throw all of that away.
It took every ounce of fortitude not to shoot Watson where he stood. He glared across the distance as Watson continued talking. Eliza stepped back, losing her balance. Her hand shot to her mouth as a small yelp escaped her. Thomas reached for her and held her to him. He brushed his hand along her back, trying to soothe her. She shook her head then looked up at him as if what he’d said caused her considerable pain.
Samuel lurched forward, ready to race ahead and sweep Eliza away from her captor.
But he stopped, as Eliza reached up and stroked Watson’s cheek, then took his hand and kissed it tenderly. Watson pressed his lips into her hair and circled her in his arms as they moved toward the small home several yards away. She held herself next to him as they walked, her lilting voice floating on the air, baiting him.
Watson opened the door, motioning for her to enter. He brushed her cheek, followed her in, and closed the door behind them.
Samuel’s lungs collapsed and the snowy earth around him spun.
Staggering, he tried to stable his pulse. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, couldn’t feel. Samuel turned to the tree in front of him then punched it over and over again, slicing his frozen skin on the rough bark, then sunk into the snow beneath him and looked at his bleeding knuckles.
