Stay a Little Longer (23 page)

“We have to get you inside,” she muttered.

Otis could only groan in answer.

Rachel understood that moving her uncle would be a difficult task; given his enormous bulk, she worried that she would never
be able to manage alone. Nevertheless, Mason’s continued weakness from his illness made it impossible for him to help. Since
the only other man in the boardinghouse was Jonathan Moseley, and she wasn’t about to go anywhere near him, she knew that
she was on her own.

“Uncle Otis,” she said, “I’m going to need your help to do this.”

“I’ll give you all I got, darlin’.”

Carefully, they rolled Otis slightly to his right where he was able to use his good arm to push himself into a sitting position.
Then, with Rachel making certain that she didn’t bump his wounded arm, they managed to get him forward onto his knees. Finally,
with every muscle in her body straining with the effort, they succeeded in getting him to his unsteady feet.

“Let’s just get our bearings,” she said, resting for what was to come.

“I ain’t got much of those to begin with.”

With both of them breathing hard, Rachel could plainly smell the alcohol on the man. She was not surprised to learn that Otis
had been attacked as he returned from the tavern. Still, she was a bit disheartened; this would’ve been hard to do if he were
sober.

Slowly, taking each step carefully, they made their way across the courtyard. Closer and closer they came toward the back
door, but Rachel’s fears only intensified. She worried that Otis would fall and hurt himself more, but somehow he managed
to stay on his feet.

“The fella… who attacked me… said…” Otis said hesitantly.

“What? What did he say?” Rachel prodded.

“He… he said we… need to sell… the house…”

“Hush, Uncle Otis,” she shushed him as the reason for the attack became obvious to her. “Let’s just get you inside.”

Without a shadow of a doubt, Rachel knew that Zachary Tucker was behind the attack upon her uncle. Before that moment, she’d
thought the banker to be nothing more than a despicable snake only after profit, but now she knew she had underestimated his
capacity for evil. Upset that his bid to purchase the boardinghouse had been declined, he’d undoubtedly sent some lackey to
apply pressure, to make them all so fearful for their safety that they had no choice but to cave in to his demands.

That no-good bastard!

Not for the first time, Rachel marveled that Zachary Tucker and his brother were related. Mason, she knew, was honorable and
decent, and she believed that, in the end, he would do what was right by Charlotte. That fate had been so cruel as to take
Mason from all of their lives and leave Zachary in his place, working his wicked machinations, was nearly more than Rachel
could accept.

Carefully the two of them made their way through the back door, across the small kitchen, and through a narrow doorway before
settling Otis in his favorite chair in the sitting room. Lowering his ample girth into his seat, the wounded man grimaced
in obvious pain.

“I need to go for the doctor,” Rachel explained. “Can you stay here?”

“I’d be better… if I had my flask…”

“That’ll just have to wait,” she said with a weak smile. “Once I fetch Dr. Clark, I’ll be right back.”

“Me and my broken arm… ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

With her heart full of equal measures of worry and anger, Rachel left the house.

By the time Dr. Clark had come and gone, Otis was sleeping fitfully. Thankfully, the freshly wakened physician had been able
to reset the broken arm. Otis had shouted so loudly that he would have roused the whole town had it not been for the leather
strap he had been given to bite down on.

“I’m sorry about all this, Otis,” Dr. Clark said.

“Not… not as sorry… as I am… I bet…” Otis replied tearfully.

A makeshift sling had been improvised to keep the arm immobile. Come morning, Dr. Clark would return to set it in plaster.
A pill he had been given and the contents of the flask Rachel had retrieved from the yard put Otis to sleep, but this was
an injury he would be suffering from for some time to come.

With Otis repositioned in his own room, Rachel shut the door behind her as she left, closing off the sound of her uncle’s
snoring. The rest of the house still remained silent except for the usual creaking and groaning of the old building. Regardless,
Rachel’s heart thundered.

Her anger at Zachary Tucker had not subsided since she first had realized it was he who was behind the attack on her uncle.
How dare he do something so very cowardly as harm an innocent old man!
She had every intention to go down to the bank, march into his office, and give him a piece of her mind. If his goal was
to make them frightened enough to sell the boardinghouse, he was going to be in for quite a surprise.

Thinking about one Tucker man made Rachel aware of the other. She made her way up the tall flight of stairs and carefully
opened the door to Mason’s room. From the sliver of light that followed her in from the hall, she could see that he was sleeping
soundly, the wool blanket that covered his chest rising and falling rhythmically. Tomorrow, she would tell him of her many
concerns about Zachary; maybe Mason would have a clearer idea of what they should do. Watching his peaceful sleep, Rachel
found it so inviting that she decided to go and get some of her own.

Rachel had no more than pulled the door shut when strong hands grabbed her by the waist and yanked her backward. She scrambled
wildly for something to grab hold of, but the strength of her attacker was too great for her to fight off. Before she knew
what had happened, she had been dragged from the light of the hall to a place of darkness, a hand pressed down so tightly
over her mouth that she found it hard to breathe.

There wasn’t even time to scream.

E
VEN AS RACHEL WATKINS
struggled futilely against him, Jonathan Moseley could not help but revel in the warmth of her body, the fragrant smell of
her skin, and even the spirit of her fight. After all, there was much to love about this woman who eventually would become
his wife.

Jonathan pushed the door shut with his foot and they were both instantly plunged into darkness. Although Rachel’s heart was
thundering as her breath frantically filled and emptied her lungs, he remained the essence of calm; there was no doubt in
his mind that what he was doing was right. Regardless of how hard she fought to free herself from his grasp, Jonathan felt
safe in the fact that his body was far stronger than the impression given by his tall, spindly frame; besides, he knew there
would never come a day where he would be so weak as to let her go.

“You don’t need to fight it any longer, my dear,” he whispered in her ear.

For an instant, Rachel’s struggle subsided, no doubt because she now knew who had placed hands upon her. When that realization
completely sank in, her resistance grew even more intense.

“Hush, hush, darling. You’re with me now.”

And that is exactly as it should be…

Jonathan had been wakened by the sound of voices rising from the first floor of the boardinghouse. Opening his door slightly,
he had strained to listen as the doctor and Rachel cared for Otis. Later, he had watched Rachel come up the stairs. For the
briefest of instants, he thought that she would come to his door, to finally acknowledge her own passionate feelings for him
and that he had been right about their being destined for each other. His heart began to pound loudly with anticipation of
his fondest dreams coming true. As she had drawn nearer, Jonathan led himself to believe that they were about to begin the
life he knew they were destined to lead.

But then she had gone to the stranger’s door…

In that moment, Jonathan had known that Rachel was truly confused. That she was choosing to care for a man she knew nothing
about, a man who could potentially pose a danger to them all, was more than he could continue to bear. He had waited angrily,
ears straining to hear her come back out into the hall, and then he had struck.

“Everything will be all right, my dear,” he soothed, knowing that if she could just listen to him for a moment, hear his loving
voice, she would surely understand and would no longer fight. “Now that we are together, everything will be as it should,
as it always was meant to be.”

But even as Jonathan spoke to calm her, he could feel his own ardor stirring, his very loins afire with a burning passion.
He had never before allowed himself to be so close to her, to touch her, close enough for his true feelings to be released.
As if it had a mind all its own, his free hand began to roam beneath Rachel’s skirt, up her quivering thighs, across her squirming
stomach, and finally to squeeze her breasts.

“We belong together… as husband and wife…” he moaned.

Rachel struggled mightily, shouting something into the palm of his hand still clamped down over her mouth; Jonathan couldn’t
be certain, but he could hope that she was declaring her own pent-up feelings for him.

“I know just how you feel,” he whispered in her ear.

Touching Rachel after so many long weeks of frustration now stoked his fires to fury. An aching spread across the front of
his trousers; his manhood was fully erect. He had little doubt that his pain would end only upon its release.

“You should have just taken my offer and come with me to the woods,” he panted as his free hand struggled to undo his trousers,
and he used the weight of his body to prevent Rachel from breaking free of his grasp. “If you had, you would have known me
to be an honorable man, someone you could love and trust, and all of this would’ve been unnecessary.”

Just as Jonathan finally managed to thread the clasp of his belt, Rachel drove her elbow into his ribs, and in the immediate
mixture of stinging pain and startling confusion, he let go of her. In an instant, she shot for the freedom beyond the door
to his room, but he managed to fall toward her and with his long reach snatched her by the skirt and pulled her to the floor
directly in front of the door. Both of them landed with a resounding thud, a sound Jonathan feared might bring unwanted attention.

Clawing desperately for the door, Rachel gave him more reason to worry. She shouted, “Help! Somebody help me!”

Instantly, Jonathan was upon her. Straddling her chest, he pinned her to the floor as his previously tender feelings gave
way to a blinding anger. Savagely, he slapped her across the face, first with the front of his open hand and then with the
back, snapping her head from side to side. Rachel offered no more resistance, the fight draining out of her as easily as if
he had smashed a grape under his foot.

“Why do you deny this?” he snarled. “Why must you make me do this to you? Don’t you know what is for the best?”

Angrily, Jonathan tore open the front of Rachel’s blouse, popping several of the buttons. In the scant moonlight that filtered
in through his window, the rosy tint of her skin was revealed. Her hands never moved to stop him as his fingers sought the
soft feel of her breasts, and the excitement coursing through him threatened to overwhelm his pounding heart and the continued
pressure in his groin.

It’s time for me to take what is mine!

Mason suddenly woke from a deep sleep, his chest filled with a feeling that something was wrong. It was a sensation to which
he was well accustomed; for during his years traveling the iron rails that crossed the country, there had been many occasions
when his intuition had saved his belongings, not to mention his life. In the darkness of his room, he waited, listening.

“.help… somebody…”

In an instant, he was alert. Sliding from between his covers, Mason tentatively put one foot on the floor. In the last several
days, with both Rachel and Charlotte’s many words of encouragement, along with plenty of nourishment, he had managed to regain
a fair amount of his former strength. He had done a little walking around the room, but always with Rachel at his side, ready
to catch him if he began to fall. This would be the first time since he collapsed in the cabin that he had attempted to walk
by himself.

Before Mason could so much as stand, the sound of a man’s angry voice came to his ears. Rachel was in trouble.

Testing first one foot and then the other, Mason stood and began to move along the edge of the bed, one hand upon the mattress
and then the footboard. Though his room was dark, he had no trouble seeing, another benefit of his years spent sleeping in
rail cars. Finally, reaching the far end of the bed, he knew that he would be forced to let go and walk the few feet to the
safety of the door.

I can do this…

Taking deep breaths, Mason finally convinced himself to let go, traversing his way across as sporadic tremors shot up the
length of his weak legs. His knees quaked, but he didn’t fall. The coolness of the November night touched upon the sweat standing
on his brow, but he didn’t shiver, his mind set firmly on the task before him. After a brief pause leaning against the doorframe,
he opened the door to the hall.

Outside, faint light rose up from the bottom of the stairs. In the scant illumination afforded him, Mason could see that all
the doors in the upper hallway were closed. Because this was the first time he had been out of his room, the memories of his
many visits to the boardinghouse at Alice’s side began to rush back at him, but he tamped down the flood, choosing instead
to focus upon his worries for Rachel.

“Hello?” he called into the quiet house. “Who’s down there?”

He received no answer. There was little doubt that the sounds he had heard had come from nearby, so he moved first to the
door next to his own. Tentatively, his hand still on the doorframe, he leaned toward the door and listened. Faintly came the
rustling of clothing. Though he couldn’t be certain he wasn’t making a rash mistake, his hand grabbed hold of the doorknob.
Steeling himself, he threw it open, and what he saw inside made him gasp with disbelief.