Heart of Courage (30 page)

T
he inside of Lindsey's mouth went dry and it was suddenly hard to breathe. The night seemed eerily silent. The darkness inside the stable seemed to press in on her. She knew that voice—Stephen's voice. He had followed her to the stable. It was clear he had discovered her relationship with Thor. And perhaps through Simon Beale or Tilly Coote, he had learned that she was trying to prove him guilty of murder.

There was only one reason he was there in the stable.

Stephen meant to kill her.

Lindsey trembled as he stepped out of the shadows, a tall, blond, handsome man, a man of wealth and position who had chosen evil instead of good. Tilly Coote might have turned him down that path, but as Thor had said, the choice remained his.

Lindsey watched as he moved closer and a shaft of moonlight illuminated his face. Malice distorted his features. Pure evil glinted in his eyes. She almost didn't recognize the man who blocked her path to safety.

“What do you want?” she asked, her stomach churning with fear, stalling for time as she mentally ran over her options. The shutters on the barn were closed to keep out the cold, except for the window where the lamp had been burning and that was too near the front door. There was no back entrance, only one way to escape. And Stephen blocked the way.

Lindsey glanced round, trying to control her trembling limbs, searching for some kind of a weapon, some way to defend herself. In the stalls, the horses began to stir. Saber must have heard the tension in her voice for he snorted and started pawing the earthen floor of his stall.

“You know what I want,” Stephen finally answered, easing closer. “I want to rid the world of another worthless whore.”

Lindsey swallowed, tried to hang onto her courage. “Is that what Tilly was, Stephen? Is it Tilly you murdered when you killed each of those women?”

He made a harsh sound low in his throat. “Tonight it will be you I kill.” He disappeared into the darkness and her pulse jerked into high gear. She couldn't reach the door. There was no way Stephen would allow it. She spotted a row of tools in a rack on the wall, ran over and grabbed a pitchfork. Keeping her back to the wall, she braced her legs apart and waited. Her ears strained into the darkness, listening for sounds that would tell her where he was.

The only sound she heard was the wild thudding of her heart and the shuffling of the horses, uneasy now, moving around in their stalls.

A noise came from the corner and she whirled in that direction.

“Over here,” Stephen said softly. “You want to fight me? I'd like that. Why don't you come and get me?”

Why didn't she? If he was going to kill her, she wasn't going down easily. Coming away from the wall, she moved toward the sound of the voice. Perhaps she could circle round him, reach the door, and make a run for it. Gripping the pitchfork, her palms so sweaty it was hard to hold onto the long wooden handle, she whirled at the sound of Stephen's voice coming from behind her.

“Put down the weapon,” he softly commanded. “You don't want to make this any harder than it has to be.” On the opposite side of the barn, Saber began to rear and snort and kick the boards in his stall. Shrill neighs filled the barn.

“I'm not letting you kill me, Stephen.” Her fingers tightened on the handle. “Come any closer and you will be the one who is dead.”

He chuckled, a soft rumble in the darkness. “You think I mean to strangle you? I am sorry, but this time I must forgo the pleasure.”

Hooves pounded against the boards in the stall but Stephen didn't seem to hear. He stepped out of the shadows, into a ray of moonlight, and the hatred in his features sent a cold shiver down her spine.

“There is nothing I would like better than to put my hands round your lovely pale neck and squeeze the life from your treacherous little body. But then Rudy would go free and that would spoil my plan.”

“You're paying him back for what happened at The Goose?”

“So he told you about that, did he? Rudy never could keep his mouth shut about anything.” He raised his hand and she gasped at the sight of a pistol barrel glinting in the light streaming in through the open barn door. “You would satisfy my needs very well, little whore, but alas it is not to be.”

Though the air felt icy cold, a trickle of sweat rolled between her breasts. Stephen moved closer, moved the pistol and aimed it at her heart. In seconds she would be dead.

Gripping the pitchfork, Lindsey let out a piercing scream and charged, turning away as she thrust the pitchfork toward him with all of her strength. The blast of the gunshot echoed through the barn and Stephen grunted in pain as the iron prongs dug into his side. Swearing a violent oath, breathing hard, he jerked the pitchfork free, and an instant later, a second pistol appeared in his hand. He aimed the gun at Lindsey.

“You did better than I thought.” He reached down to touch the blood oozing from the holes in his side that hadn't been deep enough to kill him. “Now let's make this end.” He moved closer, the weapon pointed at her chest.

“Lindsey, is that you?” Thor's deep voice reached her through the darkness, his tall silhouette outlined in the moonlight streaming into the barn.

“It's Stephen!” she shouted. “He has a gun!”

“Stop right where you are!” Stephen commanded, the pistol still pointed straight at Lindsey.

Thor jolted to a halt.

“Move a muscle and she's dead.”

He took in the scene at a glance and in the faint rays of moonlight, his jaw looked hard as steel. “You think I will let you kill her? You have only one shot and you will need that for me.”

The pistol swung toward Thor. “Fine, I'll shoot you first and deal with your whore when I'm finished.” Stephen took aim, then froze as a loud crash rent the air and Saber streaked like black lightning out of his stall. The stallion thundered toward Stephen, who jerked his pistol in that direction and blindly pulled the trigger. Saber reared up on his hind legs and his hooves slammed down with murderous force, sending Stephen crashing into the dirt. The stallion's hooves slammed down again, cutting into Stephen once more.

“Saber, hold!” Thor rushed forward. “Saber!” But by the time he brought the animal under control, Stephen Camden, Viscount Merrick lay in a bloody heap, dead on the floor of the barn. The stallion backed away, shaking all over, his black coat glistening with sweat.

“Thor!” Lindsey ran toward him and he caught her up in his arms.

“By the gods, Lindsey!”

She buried her face in his shoulder and his hold tightened around her. “Are you hurt? Lindsey—are you injured?”

Tommy Booker ran into the barn just then. “Sweet Jesus!”

“St-Stephen followed me here,” Lindsey tried to explain, her voice shaking. “He—he tried to kill me and I—I stabbed him with the pitchfork. He would have killed you, too—if…if it hadn't been for Saber.” She started crying then, deep racking sobs she couldn't seem to stop.

Thor's hold tightened even more. Tommy Booker retrieved the lantern, lit the wick, and the stable filled with golden light.

“Easy boy,” said Tommy, moving closer to Saber, reaching out a hand to stroke him, then jerking back in horror. “He's been shot! Saber's been shot!”

Lindsey cried out and she and Thor raced toward him. Lindsey bit back a sob as she reached the spot where the stallion stood trembling. Blood oozed from a wound in his chest. The animal whinnied softly, nudged her with his nose, then went down on his knees and lay down heavily on his side.

“Saber!” Tears rushed into Lindsey's eyes as Thor knelt beside his beloved horse. “Oh God, oh God!” She bit down on her lip, trying to pull herself together, knowing now was not the time to fall apart. “We have to get help. We have to do something!” Blood darkened her skirt as she knelt beside Thor, whose hands shook as he worked over the horse.

“There's an animal doctor,” she said, fighting to steady her shaking voice. “He takes care of all the livestock my father keeps in the city. His name is Carlton and he lives close by…in…in Kinsey Street…at…at the end of the block off Richman Lane.”

Thor turned to the groom. “Go get him, Tommy, and fetch the police.”

“Use my father's name,” Lindsey added. “Tell the doctor that Baron Renhurst said for him to come.”

“I'll bring him, miss!”

“Hurry, Tommy!”

The lad raced out of the barn, leaving them to care for the stallion. Saber nickered softly and tried to lift his head, but he didn't have the strength.

“We've got to stop the bleeding,” Thor said.

Lindsey ran to the tack room in search of a blanket, her heart aching for Thor as well as Saber. Kneeling next to Thor, she handed him the blanket, which he tore into strips and stuffed into the hole where the lead ball had entered. Folding another strip, he pressed it over the bleeding wound.

“He can't die,” Lindsey said, the tears in her eyes beginning to slide down her cheeks. “He saved our lives.”

Thor made no reply, but his jaw clenched and un-clenched in helpless fury. Lindsey looked at Saber. It was clear the injury was grave, perhaps fatal. Lindsey knew Thor was hurting nearly as much as Saber.

She stroked the stallion's neck, smoothed his silky cheek. “You have to get well, boy. You have work to do for Thor.”

The horse made a soft sound in his throat and Lindsey's heart squeezed. His eyes were a velvety brown and they seemed to be saying farewell.

“I won't let you die,” she whispered, “I won't.” But dear God, she wasn't sure what more she could do, what anyone could do to save the magnificent horse.

Thor stroked the stallion's neck and whispered soothing words, some in his own native language. As Lindsey pressed the cloth over the horse's bleeding wound, Thor left them for a moment, retrieved another blanket, and walked over to where Stephen lay dead on the floor. Taking note of the bloody pitchfork, flicking a glance in her direction, he unfurled the blanket and covered the man's lifeless body.

“You did not deserve such a quick death,” he said darkly. “Hanging would have been too good for you.”

Lindsey thought of the women Stephen had brutally murdered, thought of the beautiful horse whose sides heaved with each labored breath, and believed that Thor was right. Merrick had gotten less than he deserved.

Thor returned to Lindsey's side, traded places, and pressed his big hand over the blanket-covered hole. All the while, he spoke to the stallion in that gentle way of his, calling the horse
Brandr fra dat konungr,
Saber of the King, soothing him and promising that help would soon come, asking him to fight like the champion he was, asking him not to die.

“You cannot let a man like that steal your life,” he said softly, stroking the horse's side. “Your veins run with the blood of champions. You were meant to sire sons that would rule for generations.” His voice broke on this last and he glanced away, his throat moving up and down.

He swallowed. “Where is that doctor?” he said gruffly after what seemed hours but wasn't nearly that long.

“He'll come,” Lindsey said, reaching out to touch him, aching for him deep inside. “We have to believe that. Saber just has to hang on until he gets here.”

A quarter hour later, the sound of footfalls drew Lindsey's attention to the door. Tommy Booker appeared in the light of the lantern, breathing hard and perspiring. At the sight of the gray-haired doctor who walked in behind him, Lindsey felt a stirring of hope.

“Dr. Carlton!” She rose to her feet and hurried toward him. “Thank God you are here. Saber has been shot. He desperately needs your help.”

Carlton, a man in his fifties, wore rumpled clothes and the sleepy-eyed look of having been summoned from his bed. He knelt at the stallion's side, lifted the bloody square of wool, and frowned. He gently examined the wound and Saber made no attempt to stop him.

“What can you tell us, Doctor?” Thor asked anxiously.

The doctor continued his work, then looked at Thor. “There is no frothy blood coming out of the wound, which means the ball didn't hit a lung.”

He did a bit more probing, trying to discover the angle the lead ball went in. Saber lifted his head and tried to avoid the doctor's touch, then lay back down, weak from loss of blood. “I can't tell if the ball is still in there or if it might have gone out through his side.”

Since the horse was too heavy to move, Thor reached gently beneath him, feeling for the telltale sticky wetness. Saber jerked as he touched the exit wound, which was also leaking blood.

“The ball went through,” Thor said. “That is good, right?”

The doctor nodded. “Except for the blood loss. At least we won't have to go in and try to dig it out.”

“What can we do?” Lindsey asked.

“If we can get the bleeding stopped, he might have a chance. Even so, he'll face the problem of putrefaction.”

Lindsey fought a wave of despair. It seemed so hopeless. And yet she was determined. “Can we sew him up? Will that help stop the bleeding?”