“But?” His voice bore the strained eagerness of a racehorse at the line, eager for the starting shot.
She lifted her head, heart scraping bottom beneath fathoms of lost hopes. “Iwillsacrificemyself. Turn the carriage around. Head for the slave trader’s place. And if you dilly-dally on any of it, I’ll jump across this seat and throttle you.”
He half chuckled and rapped his knuckles against the door.
CHAPTER 35
Morning Fawn moved in a fog. None of this was real, couldn’t be. Lawrence, the gunman-turned-footman, banged on the quarters at the slave compound. Three crude brick buildings connected by a high wooden fence stood in back of the small house.
A whiskered man with trousers under his nightshirt finally answered the door. As agreed, Morning Fawn accompanied Nick into the man’s office, with Lawrence right behind her ready to grab her at the first hint of an escape attempt.
Her stomach knotted as Nick argued back and forth with the trader, proclaiming that he was eloping with Lebeau’s niece and that Lebeau would be more than happy to sell Lucy to him for any price in gratitude for securing a decent marriage for his wayward niece.
Finally, the man swiped his forearm across his nose and hitched his trousers. The deal was struck. A thousand dollars, a bargain, and an extra commission for the trader for the rush. Nick scrawled his signature across the bill of sale, and the man woke his wife to fetch Lucy.
No, don’t. Stop. I can’t go through with this.Morning Fawn swallowed back her protests and pressed her lips shut.
Head lowered, Lucy trudged in through a back door, wearing a faded plaid dress and a worn cloak. Her hair was pulled back in an untidy chignon at the base of her neck. Shackles clanked around her feet.
The trader’s wife followed, her rollered hair wrapped in a neckerchief. “Act lively, girl. Here’s your new owners.”
Lucy looked up and startled. Her glance flitted between Nick and Morning Fawn, her mouth agape.
Nick laid his arm around Morning Fawn’s shoulders. “We’re eloping. You’re my wedding present to Miss Logan.”
Morning Fawn flinched.
Lucy’s eyes widened. She raised her hands in supplication. “Don’t do that for me, miss. Don’t do that for me.”
“Hush.” Nick’s voice boomed.
Lucy stilled.
Nick picked up the piece of paper and tucked it into his pocket. “Take the chains off. Have her brought to the carriage. We must be on our way.”
He pivoted toward the door, turning Morning Fawn with him. Her burgundy gown swiped the torn rag-rug-covered floor. What she wouldn’t give for a doeskin outfit and moccasins right about now, and the fastest horse this side of the Palo Duro. But what good would they do? She was bound by her word as long as Nick Moyer kept his.
At the carriage with only Nick and his men as witnesses, Morning Fawn embraced Lucy.
Nick emitted a guttural groan as if she’d stepped into a pigsty.
Lucy stiffened and whispered, “Not in front of him. And don’t you dare go taking up with that man for me.”
“It’s not only for you.” Morning Fawn stepped back and gripped her shoulders. “It’s your freedom and Devon’s life.”
“Freedom?” Lucy’s brow furrowed like tree bark. “The lieutenant’s life?”
“We don’t have all night.” Nick swung open the door. “Does she want to walk from here or get a ride across the river?”
“The river.” Morning Fawn grabbed Lucy’s wrist and hurried her into the carriage.
“You’re allowing that…girl to ride inside?” Lawrence scowled.
“Unless you want her riding on back with you.” Nick raised a handkerchief to his nose as he entered the compartment.
Morning Fawn ignored the odor of someone being locked away for days with no facilities to bathe. Devon hadn’t smelt any better.
Lucy squeezed into the corner with Morning Fawn on the other side of her.
