Empty Arms

 By Brianna B. 

Elizabeth Carter smoothed the bedspread one last time. The beds were made, the pillows shook out, and the windows opened to let in fresh, rain washed air. 

All ready for Katherine’s visit. 

She smiled, imagining catching up with her daughter and watching her grandchildren learn to ride. 

Where are Andrea’s old overalls? I sent her to the attic to search for them an hour ago. 

“Andrea? Where are you?”

“Mother!” It was a strangled half cry, half whimper. 

Hiking her skirts higher, Elizabeth took the stairs two at a time, images of Andi prone on the floor, injured, flashing in her mind. 

Upon reaching the attic, she scanned the interior. Andrea sat in her Sunday best on the dusty attic floor, upright and free of broken bones or blood.

Yet it was her tortured eyes that froze Elizabeth. 

“Who is Charlotte?”

Anguish swept over her.

“Mother?” Andi was by her side now, holding her arm. “Are you okay?”

“I think… I should sit down.”

“I’ll help you.” 

Once seated, Andi motioned to the crib with Charlotte’s name painted intricately on the side. “Was she the daughter of one of the servants?”

Slowly, Elizabeth shook her head. “She was… my daughter.”

“You… you mean I have another sister?”

“Had, my dear. Had.”

“She’s dead?”

“Yes.” The word was a whisper, but it seemed to echo throughout the room. 

“How… ?”

“An outlaw.”

She hardly registered her daughter’s shocked gasp as her mind flashed back to the horrid memories. 

• — ✦ — • 

A much younger Elizabeth Carter bustled through the foyer to the front door, one-year-old Charlotte propped on her hip. 

Opening the door, her gaze met warm chocolate brown eyes. 

The young man tipped her head. “Ma’am.”

She scanned him. He was clean, if a little dusty from the trail, and decked out with cowboy duds. Before she could blink, he had his gun out and pointed at her. 

Elizabeth hugged Charlotte to her chest, twisting so the pistol’s aim was on her, not her daughter. “What do you want?” She packed her voice with as much steel as she could muster. 

The young man laughed. “Money, of course.”

“My husband is driving cattle to market now. We don’t have much right now.”

“I’m not a fool. The Circle C Ranch is the biggest spread in these parts.” He waved his pistol. “Get in the house.”

He followed her in. “Show me where your husband keeps his cash.”

Elizabeth jutted her chin higher, unwilling to let him see her fear. “At the bank.”

“Surely not all of it.” His eyes wandered to the staircase. “In his bedchamber, perhaps?”

He glanced at her and grinned lazily. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

She narrowed her eyes before turning away. 

“Show me!”

Moving as slowly as she dared, Elizabeth climbed the stairs ahead of him. “You never told me your name.”

“My friends call me Blackjack, but my… clients call me sir.”

Elizabeth stopped at the door to her bedroom and opened the door. 

“Where’s the money?” Blackjack scanned the room. 

“Under the bed.”

He chuckled. “Go get it.”

She glared daggers at him. “I’m holding my baby daughter. Are you so afraid that a woman may overpower you?”

As soon as he bent over the side of the bed, she reached under one of the pillows. Her fingers curled around the cold metal of a pistol. 

“Still nothing-” Blackjack’s eyes rounded. “Fool woman.” 

“Put your gun down,” she ordered, aiming for his heart.

“No, you put your gun down,” he returned, a sassy smirk playing on his lips. “You might kill me, but not before I take your precious baby with me.”

“You wouldn’t kill an innocent baby.” Even as she spoke, doubt clouded her mind. 

“Try me,” Blackjack answered, his pistol aimed at a gurgling Charlotte. “Put the gun on the bed.”

Tossing the pistol toward him, she pressed Charlotte closer. 

Please, Father, deliver us both from this man.

“You were lying when you said money was in the bedroom.” He eyed her for a long moment before his gaze moved to rest on Charlotte. “Pretty little thing.”

Charlotte’s dark curls contrasted with her creamy skin and framed her wide, sky blue eyes. 

“My wife is yearning for a baby,” he said thoughtfully. 

Elizabeth’s heart splintered. “No. Please, anything but Charlotte.”

He ignored her plea. “Charlotte, huh?”

He motioned her out of the room. Elizabeth descended the stairs as rapidly as she could, determined to stay as far away as she could from Blackjack. 

Once outside, he mounted his horse, holstered his pistol and reached for Charlotte. Elizabeth backed away, her eyes pleading. 

“Do you wish to see your daughter killed? Give her to me, or else you bury her today,” he gritted. 

The color drained from Elizabeth’s face, and she came closer to the horse. She planted one last kiss on Charlotte’s soft cheek. Her daughter’s eyes locked with hers even as Blackjack raised her to sit in front of his saddle. Only when she was sandwiched between him and the saddle horn did she peek up at the stranger, her eyes reflecting complete trust. 

No. Please, Lord, don’t let him take my baby.

“A pleasure, ma’am.” Blackjack tipped his hat to her and urged his horse into a canter. 

Elizabeth’s vision blurred as her throat tightened, threatening to choke her. She collapsed to the dusty ground, hugging her empty arms around herself as her shoulders shook with heaving sobs. 

• — ✦ — • 

“Didn’t Father search for her?” Andi’s voice drew Elizabeth from reliving her heartache. 

“He never gave up.” Tears misted her vision. “It seems as if she disappeared forever. I’m so sorry, Andrea. Only the Lord knows why He took Charlotte from us.”

The final memory resurfaced in her mind’s eye. Charlotte, laughing as she grasped the horse pommel with her stubby fingers, a genuine smile lifting Blackjack’s lips. 

Please, Lord, keep her safe. And if it’s Your will, bring her back to me.