The Master of Phoenix Hall by Jennifer Wilde Page A

the hand gripped my arm.
    â€œHey, fellows! Look what I’ve found.”
    The man was large and burly with a hard, leathery face and ugly gray eyes that danced with malice. His thick lips were curled into a leer. He wore a pair of dusty black boots, tight brown pants and a tan shirt with the sleeves rolled up over his muscular arms. The fingers gripped my arm tightly. I tried to pull away and he jerked me closer to him. Two more men came around the corner of one of the shacks. They were dressed exactly like the first and had the same blunt, peasant features.
    â€œLet go of me,” I said, trying to keep calm.
    â€œNow, little Lady—keep still.”
    â€œWhat have you got there?” one of the men asked, grinning.
    â€œLittle local lass. She’s probably heard how nice we were and oome to see for herself. Yeah—that must be it.”
    â€œPretty little thing.”
    â€œBrung us some flowers, too.”
    â€œDon’t squirm so, Lassie,” the man holding me said.
    I held my breath. I must keep calm. I tried to summon all my mental resources to prevent hysteria from overcoming me. The other two men crowded around me. I could see their eyes gleaming with malice, and I could smell their breaths. They were crude, common, ugly men, with no morals. I thought of all the tales Billy had told us about them, and I shuddered. There was nothing I could do. If I screamed I would bring more of them. I could not break away. I had to use my intelligence. I had to outthink them. My voice trembled as I spoke.
    â€œLet—let go of me,” I said. “You don’t seem to know who I am. I—I’m the minister’s daughter. I came to—to see Miss Laurel, and I will tell Mr. Mellory if you don’t release me—now.”
    â€œListen to her.”
    â€œShe’s lying. The minister doesn’t have a daughter.”
    â€œNo young ladies call on that Miss Laurel. Ain’t one been to see her since we’ve been working here.”
    â€œNaw—the girls in town told ’er about us. She came to have some fun, and your ugly face scared her, Burt.”
    The man called Burt held my arm tightly. I tried to jerk away. He pulled me around and pinioned me against his chest, one arm around my waist, the other about my shoulders. He was breathing heavily.
    â€œWhat we goin’ to do with her?”
    â€œI found her. You all go on back—”
    â€œThat ain’t no way to be now, Burt. We’ll take her to the shack.”
    â€œYeah—”
    I placed my hands against the man Burt’s chest. I drew in a deep breath and then shoved with all my might. He stumbled backwards, and I was free for a moment. I tried to run. One of the men caught my skirt. I jerked it free, and I could hear the material ripping. I ran toward the clearing, but I got only a few steps when a hand grabbed my arm and another seized my hair. My bonnet had fallen off. The basket of flowers flew into the air. I could see the flowers flying, and then they were crushed beneath heavy boots as the men circled about me. I fought wildly, blindly, striking out like a person possessed of a demon. I caught a hand between my teeth and bit down hard until I could taste the blood. I raked my fingernails across a cheek, and I saw four red streaks where the flesh was torn. My head swam. My heart pounded. I was thrown onto the ground. The breath was knocked out of me. Through heavy lids I saw the men coming toward me.
    And then I heard the scream. It sounded like the cry of a wounded animal, shrill, loud, pierced with agony. I saw the whip curling around the man’s face, and when the black coils vanished there was blood dripping. I heard the loud slashing explosion as the whip flew through the air again, the sharp crack as it made contact with flesh. There was another scream. And another. I heard footsteps running away and curses shouted by a new voice. Then there was silence.
    I tried to get