“It looked like him, but it couldn’t possiblybehim,” Mrs. Jackson said.
“He’s been writing her letters.” Rafe kept his voice, fighting the rising panic and rage inside.
Mrs. Stanton nodded. “I’m sure she told you, but he was single-minded about his pursuit of her in New York.”
Rafe clenched his fists as he turned to Hawk. “That man is dangerous. I need to find her.”
Hawk held his gaze for a moment before nodding. “I’ll give you all a few minutes to put on dry clothing. We’ll meet back here, and then we’ll split up.”
If anyone would have attempted to argue with Hawk or asked to go home to bed, Rafe probably would have throttled them. But the other men simply nodded and rode off. Rafe watched them go. Perseverance was trying at times, but the good residents of the town came together when they were needed.
“Go home and change,” Hawk said to Rafe.
Rafe wanted to refuse. He didn’t care about his clothing, but Hawk looked ready to march him back home if needed.
He didn’t take but a few minutes to exchange the wet clothing for dry. The house was just as Hannah must have left it. Dishes dry now, half a loaf of bread still sitting on a small table, and the bed made up neatly.
Rafe stared at the pillow where Hannah usually rested her head, and he thought his heart might burst open at her absence. He pressed a hand to his chest to try to quell the rising emotions. A deep,shuddering breath was the only thing that kept him from falling to the floor and rendering himself entirely useless.
He let out another breath and dropped his hand.
He would find her if he had to tear the entire territory apart to do it.
Chapter Eighteen
Hannahpickedattherope that bound her wrists to the post on the bed. It was afternoon, and the chaos in this makeshift boardinghouse had started again at a dull roar a couple of hours before. Her hand began to ache, contorted the way it was to get to the rope. She dropped it to study the rope again. Her wrists were already pink with chafing, so she had to be careful trying to pull at it.
It felt useless, but it was the only thing she could think to do. She refused to simply sit here and let Jack Donahue get away with whatever terrible thing he had planned for her.
She leaned back against the headboard in her damp dress. He’d at least had the dignity to take the bedraggled hat from her head when they arrived, eying her like a dog cornering its prey as he took his time unlacing the ribbon at her neck. Hannah cringed at the memory of his fingers skating across her skin. He had tossed it into a corner.
Hannah blinked, trying to clear her head. The night before had been a nightmare. After dragging her for what felt like miles outside of town, Mr. Donahue had turned her around to get her onto a horse he had waiting. At that moment, she realized who he was. He had grinned at her, and she’d returned it with the amount of horror she felt inside. He’d immediately dropped the smile. It was odd, almost as if he’d expected her to be happy he’d grabbed and dragged her forcibly away from her home in the pouring rain.
He had tossed her onto the horse as if she weighed nothing at all before looping a wet rope around her hands and tying it to the saddle. Then he climbed up behind her, and she’d had no choice but to sit against him. He whispered something in her ear that Hannah was grateful not to have heard over the rain. Then he set the horse in a direction that she guessed led somewhere south of town.
The ride seemed to last forever, but between the rain, the proximity to Mr. Donahue, and her fear, Hannah had no accounting of time whatsoever. Her mind catapulted from thought to thought—praying for herself and for Rafe to find her, worry about Ada, terror at what might happen next, and even wondering how Mr. Donahue had learned to ride a horse.
She had the most unexpected vision of him galloping through Central Park when she started to spot lights in front of them. Hannah blinked through the rain, certain she was imagining things. But the lights were still there, twinkling between the raindrops.
It ended up being a town—if one could call the haphazard collection of wooden buildings and canvas tents a town.
Behind one of the buildings, Mr. Donahue slid off the horse with a knife in hand. Hannah recoiled. Surely he didn’t want tomurderher. Of all the horrible scenarios that had played through her mind, that wasn’t one of them. He didn’t appear to notice her reaction as he used the knife to slice through the rope binding her wrists.
“I’ll have this with me,” he said, holding the knife with the sharp end pointed toward her. It was a threat, and Hannah nodded. As strongly as she disliked him, she had never imagined Mr. Donahue, with his crisp suits and with his perfectly combed hair, looking as wild and unpredictable as he did at that moment.
He slid the knife into a bag he pulled from the saddle before reaching up to help her down. Hannah’s knees almost buckled when herfeet hit the ground. Ada’s poor quilt slid off, and the rain was much colder without it.
With a hand gripped around her arm, he began to lead her around the building.
“What about the horse?” The poor creature deserved better than to stand around outside all night in the rain, untethered and unfed.
“I’ll come back for him later,” Mr. Donahue said as they climbed two steps to the front door.
Hannah barely got a glimpse of the street before he shoved her inside. She blinked in the sudden light. It was dim, coming from a few dirty lamps, but compared to the blackness outside it might as well have been the sun.
She glanced around, trying to discern where they were. Plain walls, a scarred desk, a surly looking fellow in the chair behind the desk, rickety stairs that stretched upward, and raucous shouts and laughter coming from all directions.
It appeared to be a boardinghouse, but it was nothing like the one in Perseverance.
