Stay a Little Longer (33 page)

“Now, I’m gonna ask you some questions,” he growled into the woman’s ear, “so you just nod that pretty little head of yours
in answer, unless you got some desire to lose it. You follow what I’m sayin’ to you?”

Rachel Watkins nodded her head emphatically.

“Good girl,” Travis praised her. “If you lie to me, I’ll know.”

She nodded again.

Maybe this ain’t gonna be so damn difficult after all…

“Do you know of a fella goes by the name of Mason Tucker?” he asked, turning the woman to where he could see in her eyes;
even in the dim light afforded to the kitchen, he felt confident that he would be able to see the truth, no matter what it
might be.

Rachel Watkins’s eyes grew wide as she slowly began to nod her head; Travis had known that she would recognize the name, what
with the man having been married to her sister.

“Supposed to have died, didn’t he?”

Another cautious nod.

“You don’t suppose that he ain’t as dead as people think?” the hired man snarled, adding as much threatening menace to his
voice as he could. “Maybe even livin’ here in this house?”

This time, Rachel’s eyes grew even wider, and though she shook her head in response, it was clear to Travis that she was lying
to him. A shivering sense of excitement wormed its way down the length of his spine; just the thought of discovering deception
excited him, for now he would have no choice but to make things physical.

With his hand still pressed against her mouth, he violently shook her. “Don’t think for one second I can’t tell when I’m bein’
lied to! That son of a bitch is here, ain’t he? Answer me, goddammit!”

Letting go of his grip upon her, Travis struck Rachel with the back of his hand, slapping her so hard that she tumbled to
the floor. Before she could stir, he was again upon her, roughly yanking her back to her feet, so that her head lolled from
side to side.

“I’m gonna do a hell of a lot worse if you don’t tell me what I want to know!”

“Let her go!” a man’s voice commanded from behind him.

Swiftly, Travis turned the woman around, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her against him, the other hand around her
throat. Together, spinning on his heel, he twisted to face the new arrival with Rachel as a shield.

Standing in the darkness of the hallway that led from the kitchen was a man, his hands balled tightly into menacing fists,
his broad shoulders promising a potentially worthy adversary. With the scant, flickering light thrown from the oil lamp, the
man’s eyes shone like those of a wild beast whose brood was being threatened.

“I reckon you’re Mason Tucker,” Travis said.

Stars swam dizzily in front of Rachel’s eyes as a result of the stranger’s blow, but through the haze of confusion and tears,
she was overjoyed to see Mason.

When she had first been grabbed, Rachel was overcome with fear that Jonathan Moseley had returned. She had screamed, but the
sound had died in the cup of the stranger’s hand. Not until her attacker spoke did she realize he was someone else.

Though Rachel had been frightened half out of her wits, she had done her best to remain calm, looking for any avenue of escape.
At the mere mention of Mason’s name, she had known that Zachary Tucker was behind this latest intrusion into the boardinghouse.
To ask about Mason, to wonder if he weren’t dead and even in the house, made it as clear to her as if Zachary himself had
come. Mason’s hope that his brother hadn’t caught a good look at him in his father’s bedroom hadn’t held true. The man gripping
her was probably Zachary’s thug, the one who had brutalized Otis.

“I told you to let her go,” Mason warned. “And I sure as hell meant it.”

“Or what?” the man chuckled. “Way I see it, there ain’t no way in hell you’re gonna do shit, long as I got a hold of this
here gal. That means that you and I is in a standoff.”

Listening to the two men, there was nothing Rachel could do, no warning she could give; the man’s hand was still clamped down
tightly over her mouth. Stunned after being slapped, she still quivered slightly, and she didn’t believe that she had the
strength to fight her way free.

“You can’t hold on to her forever,” Mason snarled.

“Ain’t gonna have to,” the stranger argued. “Soon as I can get on out of here, there ain’t gonna be a single person in Carlson
who ain’t gonna know you’re alive, startin’ with one in particular. With a face the likes of yours, ain’t gonna be no easy
task to keep on hidin’.”

As the man spoke, Rachel felt his hand move ever so slightly. It had been pressed tightly over the whole of her mouth, but
now it had begun to slide toward her chin, allowing her a bit more movement with her upper lip. While she still assumed that
the man wanted to keep her silent, to prevent her from shouting and awakening the rest of the boardinghouse’s inhabitants,
what was most important was that she remained his hostage. He was sure that Mason would be reluctant to engage him if there
were any chance of her being hurt in the process, a fact that was most certainly true.

Suddenly, Rachel knew what it was that she should do. If Mason were to have any chance to stop this man, as well as to prove
once and for all that his brother was up to no good, she had to act.

“You best just stay away,” the man began, “ ’cause there ain’t—aaarrrhhh!”

Before the stranger could complete his thought, Rachel bit down on his finger as hard as she could, and in the instant when
the man reacted, she jammed her elbow into his midsection, driving him away and escaping from his grasp. She had no more than
broken free than Mason was across the room, hurtling into her attacker with all of his might; his first blow landed just as
Rachel fell to the floor and relative safety.

“You bitch!” the man barked.

“Now it’s just you and me,” Mason snarled in answer.

Staring wide-eyed, Rachel watched as Mason landed a heavy punch that connected with the stranger’s jaw, momentarily staggering
him, but just as it seemed he might fall down, the man managed to right himself, slamming back into Mason. The two of them
careened across the kitchen, smashing into the table on which she had placed the oil lamp.

The force of the collision immediately set the lamp wavering, and just before Rachel could rush over and rebalance it, it
tipped over the edge and fell to the floor, where it shattered into pieces. The oil poured free from its container and instantly
burst into flames, racing across the floor like water poured from a cup, burning a brilliant yellow and orange.

“Mason!” she shouted. “Fire!”

Rachel hurried to where the oil burned ever hotter and ever higher, desperately trying to stamp it out with her booted feet,
but nothing she did seemed to make the slightest bit of difference. She was helpless to prevent tongues of flame from licking
at the legs of the table and chairs and setting them ablaze. Within a matter of moments, the fire already appeared to be out
of control.

Oh, no! Oh, please, Lord, no!

*   *   *   

Mason moved quickly to his left, dodging a short right hand thrown by the stranger, crouched, and blasted a punch of his own
to the man’s ribcage. Rachel’s attacker yelped in pain. Though Mason had thrown all the strength he could muster into the
blow, the unknown assailant continued to show surprising resiliency, refusing to fall or yield.

Within the close confines of the kitchen, the two men did battle, each refusing to surrender even an inch to the other. After
a terrific punch to the chin, Mason found himself momentarily dazed, but he kept fighting, connecting with one, two, and then
three blows in succession. This time, the stranger snarled in response, pouncing like an animal on Mason, his hands clawing
and digging into his flesh. Though his body ached from the fight, Mason’s fury at the man continued to urge him forward.

“Fall, you son of a bitch!” Mason barked.

“Never!”

While he fought, Mason kept an eye on the fire that was rapidly spreading out of control. When the oil lamp fell, he’d been
so preoccupied with confronting the other man that he hadn’t given it any thought; not until the unmistakable sounds and smells
of the fire assailed him did he realize there was a much greater danger than just this one man.

“Mason, the fire!” Rachel cried, panicked.

Faced with protecting the woman he loved, Mason would do absolutely anything to keep her safe. He had stumbled upon the assault
by accident; he’d come back downstairs just to hold her in his arms once more before the night was out.

I will not lose my family again!

Shoving the man away from him, Mason lashed out with a straight left that pounded his nose, causing an audible crack to explode
into the room. The stranger fell back toward the stove, blood pouring out of the wound.

Sensing he had little time to waste, Mason turned and shouted at Rachel. “Get everyone out of here!” he ordered, his voice
already struggling to be heard over the growing fire.

“But what about you?”

Before Mason could answer, the man was again upon him, driving an elbow into the meat of his chest and another heavy punch
into his gut. Pounding the stranger in the back, Mason shouted, “Do it, Rachel! Do it now!”

For a moment longer, Rachel paused, but finally she ran from the kitchen to waken the family.

With fire all around him, Mason turned back to his violent task.

Rachel raced up the steps of the tall staircase two at a time. Holding her skirt in one hand and the railing in the other,
she screamed, “Mother! Otis! Charlotte!”

At the top of the stairs, she dashed to her mother’s door and whipped it open.

Eliza, who had been sleeping peacefully, startled at the sound of intrusion.

“What… what’s happening?”

“Mother, get up,” Rachel answered, lowering her face until it was inches from Eliza’s. “The house is on fire. We need to get
out.”

“A fire?” her mother gasped. “But how did—”

“There’s no time!” Rachel cut her off. “You get Otis. I’ll get Charlotte. We have to hurry!”

Bursting into Charlotte’s room, Rachel ran to where the girl continued to sleep soundly in her bed and urgently tried to shake
her awake, while Jasper immediately came to his feet.

“Charlotte, wake up!” Rachel shouted. “Wake up!”

The girl’s eyelids fluttered.

“Come on, sweetheart!”

Frustrated and fearful, Rachel picked the young girl up from the bed and cradled her against her chest; it had become apparent
that no amount of encouragement was going to make the groggy child aware of the danger they were all facing.

“Wha… what’s goin’ on?” Charlotte asked, a sleepy pout on her lips.

“Let’s go, Jasper!” Rachel shouted, and the dog followed her command and ran for the door.

When Rachel ran back out into the hallway, her arms straining to hold Charlotte’s slumped weight, her mother and Otis were
coming toward them.

“How in the hell did a fire start, anyhow?” he asked, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

“Everyone outside, quickly!” Rachel ordered, wanting to make sure that everyone was safe before answering any questions.

Descending the stairs more carefully than she had mounted them, Rachel waded into the dense and choking smoke that had filled
the foyer. She made sure to keep Charlotte’s face close to her chest, and held her blouse’s sleeve over her own mouth. With
every step, she strained to hear some sound from Mason, but none came.

At the bottom of the stairs, unable to see Otis and her mother, though they were only a few feet away, Rachel was gripped
by panic.

“Where… where in the… name of tarnation… is the damn door?” Otis managed between coughs.

Only minutes since the fire had been ignited in the kitchen, great waves of heat filled the boardinghouse.

“Rachel?” her mother called from somewhere in the smoke behind her. “Where are you?”

Just as Rachel was about to give in to her ever-mounting panic and just head straight ahead in the hope that she might chance
upon a way out, the insistent sounds of Jasper’s barking split through the crackling sounds of the fire. Over and over he
barked, as if he were calling to them.

“Follow Jasper!” she cried. “Hurry!”

In the smoky entryway, they stumbled toward the incessant barking until they found themselves up against the front door. It
was just as Rachel had thought; Jasper was leading them to safety.

With a grunt, Otis turned the knob, flung open the door, and they all ran outside as smoke poured into the night, rising skyward
to mix with the still falling snow.

Breathing in huge gulps of the frigid, fresh air, Rachel handed Charlotte to her mother and she turned to look back at the
boardinghouse; at the part of the building where the fire had begun, tremendous pillars of flame licked out of broken windows.

Someone was shouting, “Fire! Fire!”

Rachel knew the boardinghouse was lost.

But where is Mason?

A
S BLOOD POURED FREELY
from the stranger’s nose, Mason could see that the other man was finally weakening. His shoulders were slumped, his fists
drifted down toward his waist, and he breathed heavily through his mouth, the clear result of both exhaustion and Mason’s
debilitating punch. He knew that it was time to finish things.

In the course of their battle, they had careened around the kitchen, down the smoke-choked hall, ending up in the seldom-used
dining room. Behind them, catastrophe continued to rage as the boardinghouse burned uncontrollably. It had begun as a small
spill of oil on the floor, but now it was an inferno. The sudden sound of the ceiling being rent asunder punctuated the sizzle
and crack of leaping flames as the building itself was consumed.

Though the smoke was thick, pouring around every corner in the search for a new space to fill, Mason refused to back down.
With his lungs burning and watery eyes, his determination never wavered.

“Just go down,” he grunted.

“The only way… you’re gonna beat me… is to kill me,” the stranger huffed, his cut lips spitting blood.