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Read an except of Early Dawn (Continued...)

The bandit leveled his gun at the woman's forehead. "And I'll kill you dead if you don't shut up." He tore a necklace from around her throat and stuffed it in the bag. "Give me the rings. Now. Or I'll hack off your fingers to get them. Don't think I won't."

The woman tugged at her blood-smeared rings, trying to pull them over badly swollen, arthritic knuckles. "Morrison, Morrison," she chanted softly. "Oh, dear God, dear God."

Eden sat frozen in her seat. She'd never seen anyone die. Ace and Joseph had always tried to shield her from the ugly aspects of life, and they'd been mostly successful. For a seemingly endless second, she could only stare in horrified disbelief at the murdered man's sprawled legs. How could a life end so quickly?

The towheaded child behind them began to cry again. Eden heard Helen frantically trying to shush him. The bandit who manned the middle of the car waved his gun in a threatening manner.

"Jewels and money, and be fast about it if you don't want no holes in your hide!" He extended a bag toward an older woman two rows forward. "I said everything!" he barked when the matronly lady failed to hand over her earrings. Then, without waiting for her to comply, he jerked the gold loops from her ears, tearing the flesh of her lobes in the process. "Your fault, not mine. Stay quiet, hand stuff over, and there'll be no trouble."

The woman's husband surged to his feet. "Dad-blast you to kingdom come, you miserable excuse for—"

The robber fired his Colt, burying a bullet right between the poor man's eyes. And just that quickly, another person was dead. Eden was now trembling violently, one litany repeating in her mind: God help us, God help us, God help us.

To her horror, the robber's attention shifted to the shrieking child behind her. Timothy. Eden's heart caught. She heard Helen's breath snag in terror.

"Shut that little shit up!" the gunman snarled. "Or I'll plug him, too!"

Glancing back over her shoulder, Eden recognized Helen's paralyzing fear because she felt it herself. Instead of soothing the little boy, Helen clutched him rigidly to her bosom, her eyes as large as nickels, the pupils dilated with terror. Frightened by his mother's stiffness, the child screamed more loudly. The bandit stomped closer, raising his Colt as if to shoot.

"I told you to shut him up!"

Helen began petting the boy, the flutter of her trembling hands frantic, her softly uttered reassurances unconvincing. The child shrank closer to her torso and let loose with an ear-piercing wail. The robber stopped and took deadly aim at the back of the toddler's head.

Eden sprang up from her seat, spun, and threw herself over Helen and the boy. "No!" she cried. "He's only a baby!" Spreading her arms and legs to provide the mother and child with more cover, Eden heard heavy footfalls advancing on her. "Please, no! Don't hurt him. We'll make him be quiet. We will. Just give us a moment."

The next instant Eden's scalp exploded with pain as the gunman's hand closed over her chignon and jerked her erect. She stumbled and nearly fell backward into him. As terrified as she was, she shuddered at the stench of his unwashed body, a nostril-burning blend of urine, soured sweat, and whiskey. The force of his grip on her hair inflicted such pain that she turned to relieve the sting and found herself looking up into his unshaven countenance and hard gray eyes.

"Well, now," he sneered, running his gaze from her face downward to take measure of her person, "ain't you a purty little thing. Be nice to me, and maybe I won't kill the squallin' little snot."

Bile surged up the back of Eden's throat. This animal had just killed two men. She wanted to spit in his face, but fear tempered the urge. As if he guessed her thoughts, he twisted his fist in her hair and rammed the barrel of the Colt against her cheekbone. Eden braced herself, convinced that he meant to pull the trigger. In some distant part of her mind, she registered that the little boy had stopped screaming, and thanked God that his mother had managed to silence him.

"Don't… hurt… her!" Dory pleaded, her words interspersed with sobs. "Please, mister, don't… hurt… her. She's done nothing to you, nothing. Just… take the valuables and leave her… be. Please!"

Eden straightened her shoulders and met the man's gaze. She saw no mercy in those stone gray depths, and in that moment, she knew she was going to die. Fear made her legs quiver, and she almost wet herself. She wished her mother would be quiet. This man would kill Dory with no more regret than he would feel swatting an insect.

"Don't hurt her!" Dory cried again.

Another gunshot rang out at the back of the train. Eden flinched. Some poor woman's wails told Eden that someone else had just taken a bullet. Afraid her mother might be next, Eden cried, "Our valuables are on the floor. They're worth a small fortune. Take them and go."

Tightening his meaty hand over Eden's hair, the bandit bent his head and slurped his tongue over her lips. Only by sheer force of will was she able to keep herself from gagging. His front teeth had rotted into little brown snags. His spit tasted like vinegar. When he straightened, his battered gray hat sat askew, revealing greasy brown hair gone pewter gray at the temples.

"You're more valuable than a handful of trinkets," he informed her with a leer. "Across the border, a little redhead like you will bring top dollar."

The man at the rear of the car yelled, "We gonna keep her, Wallace? Hot damn! We'll have a fine time tonight!"

Oh, how Eden wished for a gun. Ace had taught her well. With her Colts at her hips, she could have taken on all three men and been the only shooter left standing when the smoke cleared. Instead she could only remain there with her neck twisted to ease the pain of the brutal grip on her hair.

"Why not?" her assailant replied with a laugh. "If nothin' else, she'll give us some fun."

Before Eden could react, the man bent at the knees, tossed her over his shoulder, and started back up the aisle. "Collect the rest of the loot!" he barked. "We need to make tracks!"

Grabbing for breath, Eden made fists in the tails of the robber's filthy jacket, her head spinning from the rush of blood to her brain. She heard Dory screaming and could only pray one of the bandits didn't silence her with a bullet. Relief swamped her when no shots rang out. Her rump collided with the door as her captor drew it open. Then the cold May air cut through her clothing, its iciness nipping at her skin.

It hit Eden then. These horrible men planned to abduct her. She needed to do something to save herself. Only what? Physically, she was no match for them, and she had no weapon. Her upper body bounced with each fall of her captor's feet as he descended the steps from the platform. Then she heard gravel crunching beneath his boots.

Oh, God, oh, God. If he got her on a horse, her chances to escape would be nil. Frantic, she pummeled his spine with knotted fists. When that didn't slow his pace, she grabbed hold of his jacket and walked her hands up his back until she was nearly upright. Then she went after his head, knocking off his hat as she cracked him in the temple with her elbow. He grunted and staggered.

"Leave off, bitch!"

Eden's temper, always the bane of her existence, flared hot. Bitch? Hissing air through clenched teeth, she clawed at his ear and tried with everything she had to bury the sharp toes of her Dongola kid boots into his groin. He roared with rage, grabbed her arm, and threw her to the ground. Eden rolled and scrambled to her feet, but before she could run, he was upon her. She nailed him square in the eye socket with her right fist and was about to slug him again when he retaliated in kind, his bunched knuckles coming at her so fast that they connected with her jaw before she could duck.

Black spots danced before Eden's eyes. She blinked and staggered, determined to remain on her feet. But her knees turned to water and down she went. The world had gone strangely gray—a swirling eddy of earth, trees, and sky that sucked her into a black vortex.

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