Lydia

Eight

Nick couldn't find Lydia fast enough.

After Samantha had given him the letter, he rushed through town to find people who might have seen what had happened. Only two men reported seeing a large man carrying an unconscious woman and placing her on his horse near the hotel. At least the men both pointed in the same direction where they had seen Jakeson ride. However, in the dark, finding a rider carrying a woman was like a blind man trying to see the stars.

Although the odds were stacked against him of ever catching up to the outlaw, Nick couldn't give up. Lydia needed him, even if Jakeson had set a trap. Nick would find her no matter what obstacles fell before him. Fighting danger was something a Pinkerton agent did on a weekly basis, and he wouldn't let Jakeson win.

He had no clue how long he'd been riding, but when he noticed the small shack with smoke coming out of the chimney, he decided to take a peek to see who was inside. Keeping his horse as quiet as possible, he rode closer to the shack.

Nick found a place to dismount and tie his horse. There wasn't much light from the moon to see if anyone was lurking in the trees or another horse nearby. But he still moved cautiously toward the shack, holding his gun, ready to shoot and injure anything that moved.

His heartbeat thudded crazily against his ribs as he snuck toward the shack. Off in the distance, a wolf howled. Riding through this part of Montana at night was not wise, but he had no other choice. He would do anything to save Lydia, even if it meant putting his own life in danger.

Just as he neared the window, he stepped on a stick, breaking it. Silently, he muttered a cuss. Hopefully, only Nick and the crickets outside were the only ones to hear that.

He stepped to the window. The glass was filthy dirty, and cracked. Light from the fireplace inside the shack danced and created shadows, but he couldn't see anyone inside. Of course, that did mean someone wasn't hiding. They must have heard him approach, no matter how quiet he tried to be.

Slowly, he stepped toward the door. Trying to keep calm, he placed his hand on the doorknob.

Nick swallowed down the panic rising inside him and carefully twisted the knob. He paused, waiting for the person on the other side to yank open the door and try to surprise him. But it wasn't Nick who would be surprised.

He knelt on one knee, keeping his hand on the doorknob. Taking several deep breaths for courage, he gritted his teeth and prayed that he wouldn't get injured trying to save Lydia. She needed him now more than ever, whether she wanted to believe it or not.

After waiting a few, very long, seconds without nobody jumping out at him or shooting through the door, Nick pushed it open and lunged inside, still keeping low just in case. Out of the corner of his eyes, he noticed something coming at him. In a split second, he tucked and rolled away from the object, stopping on his back. He pointed the gun toward the person who tried to cause him harm.

The moment he recognized Lydia, he gasped and shoved his gun back inside his holster. Her face was pale, and she swayed. Immediately, he scrambled to his knees, catching her as she crumpled to the floor.

Nick cradled her as he scooted away from the door, kicking it with his boot to close the door. If she was trying to hit his head with the log, that meant she was in her alone. Whether or not this was what Jakeson planned, Nick didn't know. But at the moment, Lydia needed medical attention.

"Lydia, it's me." He swept her hair out of her eyes.

She blinked several times as if trying to focus on his face. "Nick?"