Wild Fire (Book II)

Knock Knock

     Emma curled the soft blanket around her drowsy body, snuggling it against her, tucking chin. She blinked her half-lidded eyes against the darkness glancing around the room through the shadowed murky light. Her face lifted towards the window. Thick jagged boards railroaded across the glass punching thin spider legs of light in fractured criss crossed directions.

     She sat up with a frown, holding the cover to her still naked breasts. Her fingers touched tentatively just over her eye where soft gauze was tapped neatly to her cleaned forehead. The room was quiet. Her previous waking to Dutch's soft movements were gone. She listened for his steps, his breath. Silence came back to meet her.

     Her feet slid from the bed, testing the cool floor with curious toes. The blanket draped behind her as she made her way to the open-door frame, peeking around in the living space for any sign of the capturing outlaw. The articles of the house sat still. Plates soaked untouched in the sink. The square bubble of a stove was cold, glaring back at her with unused eyes.

     She made her way to the table, looping the long blanket up in her arm and inspected the contents there. On its surface sat a round plate. Plump red strawberries, thick cuts of cheese, and lovingly buttered bread spread around the tiny circle ready for her taking. She popped a strawberry into her mouth and plopped in the rickety old chair reaching for the perfectly penned note that lay waiting for her.

Good Morning Naughty girl,

Gone to better clothe you. Feed that pretty body of yours.

 Eat. Rest. Behave. Dutch

     A sneer snaked across her scrunched face. She could hear the warning of his voice through the words bouncing back at her in a low commanding growl. A curse whispered from her lips as the golden wedge of cheese melted against her tongue. Sultry bastard. How skilled he swirled the silvery spoken complement within the unforgiving demand.

     Her hand slipped under the plate, resting it on her forearm and shuffling back to the bedroom with it. She sat the plate down on the bed and scooted over to Dutch's bag thrown haphazardly on the bedroom floor. Kneeling, she fished in the bag pulling a long red shirt from its belly, slipping it over her narrow shoulders and letting it slide down dwarfing her just above the knee. Stretching sleeves fell past the tips of her fingers cuffing them in flagging empty holes.

     Satisfied, she turned on her heel, taking the blanket and tossing it back up on the bed. As she crawled back to her plate, her toe touched the still soggy sundress and undergarments strewn across the floor. She kicked them away in disgust. This was not the 'getaway' she had expected with Dutch's sweet promise. Her blood simmered just under the surface as she ate, glaring at the ugly window. That was it. She couldn't just sit here and do nothing.

     With the last of her breakfast gone, she two stepped from the bed back to the front door and pulled on it with all her might. Nothing. Her hands searched the small counters finally settling on the rounded knife there, and she went back to the door. Bending at the knee, she knelt by the lock, shoving the little blade in and twisting it back and forth with her fingers. Her tongue pinched between the corner of her teeth and lip and she jerked upward finally rewarded with a satisfying Schnik!* "Yes!" the triumphant bleat peeled from her grinning mouth. She wished she knew where he had hidden her boots, but the thought of running away barefoot did not deter her from her mission.

     Both hands grabbed the door, shrugging it open, allowing the warm glowing light to pour in around her. She stood to her feet ready to run when a looming form stopped her in her tracks. Curious eyes traveled up and up till finally they rested upon the man's face that stood there towering above her. He was nearly as tall as Dutch. Dark brown hair curling long behind his high almost pointed ears, matching the sketch of dark hair trimmed close along his squared jawline. He was mottled with scars twisting along his face and neck, one specific thick one leading down to a black leather eye patch that covered the left mangled remains of his grey eye.

     Emma took a startled step back, soaking in the broad shoulders and powerful stare from the man's solitary gaze. He moved forward ghosting past the entrance. His body was bathed in black, cutting him out against the light like a shadowy silhouette. "Hello. Emma." the venomous dark voice greeted her against his unspooling wicked half-grin. Scared legs trembled backwards bumping into the rickety chair by the table as she watched his large hands fumble in the bag slung over his shoulder.

     His movements were slow, almost leisurely as he made his way towards her. "Who?....what do you want?" She stammered feeling her way around the chair, her eyes darting around for any means of escape. The lurking man continued to walk forward, pulling a rag from the pack and dousing it with a tiny vile he found inside. His smile broadened. "Why, YOU, of course. I've been looking for you a long time Miss Wild. We have work to do, you and I." He held the balled rag in his hand out by his hip bunching and unbunching it as he moved. "Stay away..." she squeaked, inching to the door behind her. He paused a moment, glancing down at his feet then back up at her with his squinted eye. "I'm afraid I can't do that."

     His body shifted and he lunged. Emma ducked behind the bedroom door, slamming it closed and bracing her whole body against it. It never shut. She looked down. A wide black boot poked from the bottom of the door halting its movement. She pushed with all her might, but the door was blown open, knocking her back and against the side of the bed. Arms and legs scrambled across the mattress; he was nearly on her now.

     She fell off the other side bouncing up on her heels and scrapping at the splintered wood splayed across the window. Blood ripped from her fingertips as she scratched and tore at the planks. He was around the bed in an instant, curling a roped arm around her waist and dragging her back with a jerk against his tight chest. Emma bucked and pulled; her arms pinned to her sides as he tugged her with him to sit on the side of the bed. "Stop wriggling Emma. I don't want to hurt you. Not..yet."

     He pressed the cloth over her mouth holding her cheek against his own as his lips caught her ear. Muffled cries disappeared in the white bandana, while he held her there covering her mouth and nose entirely. "Shhh sh shh go to sleep little doll." Little doll........The terrifying phrase echoed against her eardrum like a silent scream. Her eyes closed against her, unable to fight the suffocating smell of the thick medicine cramming into her lungs. She fell limp against him.

     It had taken Amos two days to find the cabin. Tracking and listening to the whispers of passing saloons trailing the whereabouts of the Van der linde gang. He had expected a vicious gunfight. A faceoff between Dutch, or any other combination of the infamous gang member. To find the girl here, alone, and vulnerable was an utter surprise. He was doubly amused to have his victim open the door and practically invite him in to take her.

     He turned his stubbled cheek against the soft skin that rested under his hand. When he finally let go, Emma's head lulled forward and he twisted her in his arms, heaving her legs just over his forearm and lifted her from the ground. Her fingers dripped with blood.

     Amos looked up at the blocked window she had been scratching at. Three long smudges streaked across the wood marking it as if clawed by a wild animal. Was this Van der linde's doing? The sick bastard. What the hell had he really been up to with this girl? No matter. Her suffering by the endearing leader or anyone one else for that matter, would soon be over. This little one had a date with death, he mused inwardly, taking a gloved hand, and stroking away the stray hairs from her round face.

     His fingers brushed the small bandage there perched over her eye. "Animal..." he said under his breath. His calloused thumb traced the fine hairs of her eyebrow. "Perhaps I will kill you quickly, little lamb." He purred against the freckles along her cheek.

     His strong legs lifted with her then, shrugging her head just under his chin. Amos carried her close, walking back into the warming sunlight and mounting the great black stallion waiting patiently for him. She was like a feather sitting before him. Her slack body sagged against him in the saddle.

     He took the reins resting a circling arm around her middle and kicked the horse into a trot. Now to find that raven haired bitch. His thoughts boiled. Calmly, he galloped away leaving the cabin door ajar and yawning out at the water empty against the quiet grass.