Heart Of Coal

Chapter Three: Moving day and Strays

Colette had stopped fighting the moment she felt the filthy arms of the man behind her wrap around her waist.
She tensed as Micah's arm pulled her closer to him as he sent his horse into a trot. Her legs were to one side, and they dangled over his thigh as her shoulder rubbed against his chest. His other hand rested on the horn of his saddle, loosely holding the reins. She shuddered every time she heard his inhale close to her neck.
How could the day have gone so wrong? How was anyone going to find her? She wanted to cry when she thought of how the young guard, so flustered by her earlier, had sold her out to these criminals without a second thought for her safety.
She scrunched her eyes shut, desperately wishing this was all a horrible dream and she would wake up in her childhood bedroom, with her mother swooping in joyfully.
"You're warming up to me," Micah whispered against her ear.
She stiffened. "Go to hell," she snarled.
"Oh so you do have some claws," Micah said with a laugh, "we'll have fun, you and me."
"Leave her be, Micah," said a man with dark skin and mixed features, "Dutch said to bring her to camp, not for you to torture her with your personality."
"Whatever you say, Charles," Micah responded, "but I reckon she'll be begging for me by the end of the ride."
Colette's cheeks flushed red, in anger and humiliation. Charles, the man who tried to spare her, rode next to them for the remainder of the trip. She was grateful for that small mercy as Micah resisted the urge to caress or bait her more.
It felt like forever by the time they arrived at the camp. Her legs were aching as Charles helped her down, and she stuck close to him as Dutch signaled for her to be brought to a large house. Through broken doors and cracked shutters, Colette saw the weary faces of the rest of the gang. She was surprised by the amount of women she saw, and she searched their faces for signs of abuse and found none. The only woman who looked pained was a blonde woman whose hair was left loose and her gray eyes lifeless. She didn't even bother to look at Colette for long, instead heading back into one of the dilapidated shacks.
Colette wrapped her white cloak tighter around her neck, the soft fur hiding the lower portion of her face. Her hair had mostly come undone during the ride and she let the brown waves cover as much of her face as she could.
Dutch swung the door open, and Charles led her into the fire lit room. A man with light gray hair and a beautiful woman with red hair turned to look at them. The man took one look at Colette and paled.
"What the hell are you doing, Dutch?" he asked, standing up from his stool, sending it crashing to the ground.
Dutch gestured for Colette to step forward.
"Thank you, Charles," he said calmly, "go rest that hand up and get yourself some food."
Colette sent Charles a desperate look, begging him silently not to leave her, but he smiled tightly at her and exited back into the snow.
Her steps were cautious as she came up to Dutch, glancing around the room for any sign of an escape.
"Hosea, Miss O'shea," Dutch said grandly, "please meet Miss Silverstone, the once future bride of Leviticus Cornwall."
Hosea swore under his breath.
"What is she doing here?" Molly O'shea said, glaring at Colette.
Her heart ached at the hostility, the little hope she had that the sole woman in the room would be her savior completely gone.
"Dutch," Hosea said in a panicked voice, "you have to see how ridiculous this is- Leviticus Cornwall is a dangerous man to steal from as it is- but to steal his woman- That's suicide!"
"I wasn't about to leave a defenseless woman in the snow, Hosea-"
"I had guards!" snapped Colette desperately. "You could have left me in their hands!"
"One of those guards was very happy to sell you out," Dutch said, his eyes hardening into a glare.
Colette couldn't tell if he was glaring at the memory of the cowardly guard, or at her outburst, but she was passed caring about keeping a leveled head. Tears started streaming down her face as she turned pleadingly to Hosea.
"Please," she gasped, "please let me leave!"
"Where would you go?" Dutch snapped. "We're going near Valentine- we'll write to her family then and send her on her way."
"And I imagine we'll send a threatening ransom note before her," Hosea said angrily, shaking his head. "With a nice price demand!"
"Now Hosea," Dutch said gruffly, "what type of man do you take me for?"
"The type of man who wouldn't steal a frightened young woman in the first place!"
Molly took a step forward, glaring between the two men. "There's nothing we can do about it now- let's get out of this horrible camp first before we decide what to do with her."
Dutch nodded happily, gesturing for Hosea to lead Colette from the house.
Hosea begrudgingly held the door open for her, his mouth twisted in anger. They walked through the snow to a mostly standing building, where a group of women and a young boy were sitting, hiding from the freezing wind.
"Miss Grimshaw," Hosea said, getting the attention of the oldest woman of the group, a scar on her face. "Please can you get Miss Silverstone comfortable."
Colette started crying in earnest then as the woman put an arm around her shoulder. She took one last look at Hosea.
"I'm sorry," he said softly, before closing the door behind him.