Satin & Spurs

Chapter 1

Christ, he found her!

She was dead now. There was no more escaping the inevitable. Voices echoed from down the hall and the floorboards creaked as several footsteps approached. Leah cracked open the door. The barest light escaped into the room. Her eyes, large pools of terror and moisture, studied the duo's advance. One was the owner of the saloon beneath, a wisp of a man who had jumped at her offer to rent whatever accommodations he could provide. The familiar form that followed him made the blood run thin in her veins. She exhaled through her mouth before she latched the half-rotted door and fled to the window. It was fortunate for her that the small storeroom was located upon the first floor and was just a foot or so away from the ledge that led to the balcony and the back stairs. She was halfway through the window, unable to avoid all the jagged edges of the broken pane of glass when a faint knock echoed. Sweat dotted her brows even as she found time to mutter curses and quickly assess the lengthy, bloody scrape her leg now boasted.

"Miss Carson?"

Hearing the alias she used made her voice crack. "One moment Mr. Hicks!"

With fire in her steps she darted across the balcony and bounded down the termite ridden stairs. It took moments to retrieve her horse from the front of the building, and saddleless, she mounted and sank her fingers into the chestnuts mane before riding as if the devil and all his legions were after her.

In the vacant street she heard the thundering roar of curses and knew her escape had been a close call. His bellow slammed into her. She cut a glance over a shoulder and kicked the horse harder, pushing the mare into a hard gallop. Terror made the distance between them seem too close.

It was the beginning of autumn. The night's temperature had dropped impossibly low, and with the wind lashing her violently head on as she demanded noting less that ultimate speed from the mount, she had a hard time feeling her nose and thinly compressed lips half an hour later. Still, she rode. Beneath the folds of her dress and petticoat, she felt the powerful stretching and contracting of exertions the horse maintained. Each thunder of hooves reverberated through its body and impacted into hers. Before long, exhaustion set in, for as of one week ago she had never ridden bareback. Now the muscles of her inner thighs were tight and cramping, and her fingers were locked, almost frozen stiff buried deep in the horses' mane. She allowed only the mildest modicum of fear to show in a single drop of tear.

How far could she possibly get at this hour of night without any form of protection against the cold? If Spencer could have found her so far west and in so short a space of time, where wouldn't he find her? She started covering her tracks when she accidentally saw him lingering close to a boarding house she rented a room at several days ago in the second town she stopped at. She had not expected him to follow, but once she realized he had no intention of returning without her, Leah began to be more careful. She changed horses at every town, kept to herself and used many different aliases. She had even travelled by coach in the hope that she would be lost in the daily throng of faces. It had only been two weeks since she escaped, but already she had begun to map out a life for herself, even if it was all just in her head – dreams with no way of being realized. They were a source of distraction, a means of getting her fears of being found focused on pleasant things that calmed and gave her a small sense of hope.

Hope that quickly disappeared like all the sensation in her toes.

By the time she spotted the faint lights flickering like a beacon in the darkness up ahead, Leah found the icy air difficult to breathe. She counted the seconds that rolled by, anticipated with more dread than relief the warmth of some small dark corner she could inhabit for the night. It never occurred to her that she would have to also find a place for the horse until she halted to a stop at the entrance of the large barn. Ahead, a sprawling homestead stood, making a mockery of the modest homes she had come to associate with cattle country. Only one light beamed from a front window, and her sigh was broken and unsure when she gently nudged her mount forward and pushed open the door to the barn. Moonlight preceded her, and it took only a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness therein. Saddles polished to a high gleam hung on the wall facing the door. Straw was stacked neatly in heaps in a row.. There were barrels of what could have been grain or run, she did not know. The only thing that caught her eyes was the empty stall to her left and the clean, fresh hay. Still, she dared not dismount. The effort proved too much, and she needed to be ready to flee in the event that Spencer found her.