Part 3 (2/2)

”Fella gotta wear his hat to keep his ears from freezin',” Sam went on. He rubbed his hands together to keep the circulation going.

”Why don't ya sit down and quit yer grousin'?” Will said sourly.

”Gotta go git us some more firewood, thet's why,” Sam threw back at him. ”How many days we gotta keep this fire goin' anyway?”

” 'Til it storms.”

”An' when ya bringin' in this here storm of yers?” Sam's sarcasm was more felt than heard.

Will scowled and s.h.i.+fted. Sam wondered if he had pushed too far and was relieved when Will's right hand reached for the whiskey bottle. The man couldn't hold a bottle and a gun in the same hand.

”Soon now,” he answered, almost civil. ”I can feel it. It'll be soon.”

Sam said no more but picked up the hatchet and went out to look for more firewood.

Ariana sighed and stacked the day's marked a.s.signments into a neat little pile on the corner of her desk. She was glad to have the grading completed so she could get home. The sky had darkened and the temperature had dropped. Even though she had recently added more wood to the potbellied cast-iron stove, it was unable to keep the room warm. Her feet cold, she stomped them on the floor once more as she sat at her desk.

She had some a.s.signments to get ready for the next day and a Scripture pa.s.sage to choose for the morning reading, and then she could bank the fire and be off home. She pulled her sweater a bit closer about her body.

The heavy door creaked open and Ariana raised her head. Along with a few flakes of snow, two men in long, heavy buffalo coats and black hats pulled down over bearded faces stepped through the opening. Ariana knew she had not seen them before.

”h.e.l.lo,” she said pleasantly, thinking them to have lost their way. ”Can I help you?”

There was no answer. The two men moved farther into the room. Ariana could sense that their dark eyes were sweeping quickly over the interior, taking in everything they saw. Something about them made her feel very uncomfortable. She stood.

”Can I help you?” she repeated. ”If you are looking for the towna””

The smaller man looked longingly at the iron stove. Ariana saw one hand reach out toward it, as though to take full benefit of its heat if only for a moment.

”Please, feel free to warm yourselves before you go on,” offered Ariana. In spite of herself, she felt a tremble of fear pa.s.s through her.

”Reckon we won't take time fer warmin',” said the bigger man gruffly. ”Got some ridin' to do. Now iffen you'd jest git yer coat, missa”we'd welcome ya to join us.”

Ariana stared in unbelief.

”Whata”?”

”Git yer coat, miss.” The order was growled more loudly from the gravelly voice. Ariana froze to the spot.

”I think ya better do as told, miss,” advised the smaller man. ”It'll be easier on ya iffen ya co-operate.”

”But IaI can't go with you. My family is expecting mea””

”Then yer family will jest have to wait a spell,” said the big man. Ariana saw the end of a pistol peeking out from the furry sleeve of his heavy coat.

”But Ia””

Ariana stiffened and pulled herself to her full height. She took a deep breath and told herself to hold steady. Not to panic. But at the same moment her whole body trembled. She was afraid she was going to faint.

She closed her eyes and grasped her desk with both hands. Trust in the Lord, she managed inwardly. That was as far as she got with her prayer.

”Git yer coat,” barked the big man again. ”An' I'd advise thet ya git any other wraps thet might keep out the weather. We got us some tough trails ahead.”

”If you think I have any intention of riding offa”” began Ariana, finding courage she did not know she possessed.

Her words were interrupted by a hoa.r.s.e laugh. The big man turned to the smaller one. ”Ya got us one with s.p.u.n.k, Sam.” He laughed again. ”I like thet. Should work in our favora”later.” Then his eyes turned cruel again. ”But not now. Nowa”ya git yer coat.”

Ariana lifted her chin and tried to still its trembling. ”I will go nowhere with you,” she managed.

The big man reached out a hand that closed firmly on Ariana's wrist, making her wince with the pain. Roughly he jerked her toward the hook where her coat hung. She struggled against his iron grip, writhing this way and that in an effort to free herself. The grip on her wrist tightened, sending spasms of pain shooting up her arm.

With one last mighty effort, Ariana spun around and raked her fingernails down the face of her opponent. She saw the p.r.i.c.kles of blood appear on the broken skin before he wrested her to the floor.

Dark curses filled the air. ”Sam, gimme the rope,” he shouted.

The other man stepped forward, an ugly frayed rope dangling from his hand. For a moment he stood looking down at her, chewing on his stained mustache. Ariana was fighting against tears. Her wrist felt as if it had been broken.

”We be needin' this, missa”or are ya gonna be reasonable?” asked the man named Sam.

Ariana nodded mutely. The big man pulled her roughly to her feet. ”Then git yer coata”and I ain't sayin' it agin,” he growled.

Ariana had no choice but to obey.

”Take everything thet ya be needin', miss,” said the smaller man. ”Ya won't be back fer a while.”

Ariana felt there might be just a trace of sympathy in his voice. Instinct told her to respond quietly to his orders. Perhaps, if she did not resist, in time she would have an ally.

She quickly moved to get her coat, her eyes darting over the room to see just what she might take with her that could be of use in the uncertain future. With her wrist throbbing painfully, she managed to pull on her heavy coat and do up the b.u.t.tons. Then she pushed a few items into her cloth carrying bag. She really had very little at the schoolhouse. Just as she was about to move off, she noticed her Bible and quickly slipped it into the bag as well. She had the impression that it might become more important than ever to her.

She felt as though she were in some horrid nightmare. Nothing seemed real. She prayed that it wasn't. That she would soon wake up to her usual life. But the pain in her wrist was a reminder of how real her present circ.u.mstance was. She had to do something. Had to protect herself someway. But what could she do?

Her hands trembled and she felt weak and faint. There was no point in screaminga”no one was within hearing distance. There was no use trying to fighta”she'd never be the winner. And there was no way she could break and runa”at least not now.

She was being kidnapped. Cruelly, frighteningly kidnappeda”by two desperadoes. She knew not why and she knew not where they were taking her, but her whole being trembled at the questions tumbling through her mind. What would they do with hera”to her? Would she ever see home again? What would her parents think? Her poor mother! Her pupils? Bernard Dikerson? Hera”

No. No, she must stop thinking. It would drive her insane. She had to pray. She had to trust G.o.d. She had to.

But it was hard to concentrate on Bible pa.s.sages as she was roughly pushed out the door and toward waiting horses. It was hard to pray sensibly. It was even hard to think.

”Oh, G.o.d,” was all she was able to whisper.

She was boosted up on one of the horses and given a blanket to cover her legs and feet.

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