Autumn Lover (20 page)

Elyssa blinked, startled by the unexpected turn in the conversation.

“So you go running off to the neighbor,” Hunter continued, “risking everything, including your own foolish life. But will you listen to common sense?”

“I—”

“Hell, no,” Hunter said savagely. “You’ll go sneaking off to meet the neighbor halfway, and while you’re rolling around in the grass, your kids are being defiled by Culpeppers and then sold into slavery with the Comancheros.”

When Elyssa realized what Hunter was saying, a wave of sickness went through her.

“Hunter—” she said hoarsely.

He didn’t even hear. He was living in the hell of the past, a hell that haunted him every waking day of his life.

“The Culpeppers got around to Belinda, finally,” Hunter said. “Before they were finished, I imagine she was glad enough to die. Ted and little Em probably would have been glad to die, too. They weren’t as lucky as their mother. It took days. When I think of how those Culpeppers dragged little Em—”

“
Hunter. Stop
.”

Hunter closed his eyes. Silently he struggled to control the rage inside his soul.

When he opened his eyes, he found himself in the present rather than the ruined past. He looked down at Elyssa’s fingers. They were wrapped around his wrist in a painful grip.

“Torturing yourself won’t help,” Elyssa said urgently. “It’s over, Hunter. They’re dead and you’re alive. Tormenting yourself won’t help them one bit.”

Slowly Hunter’s eyes focused on Elyssa.

“I wasn’t there when they needed me,” Hunter said in a raw voice. “My kids died and I wasn’t even there.”

“I’m sorry,” Elyssa whispered. “Oh, Hunter, I’m so sorry.”

And she was. For his children. For his dead wife. For Hunter.

For herself.

Elyssa finally understood why Hunter refused to let himself love her. It wasn’t that he had loved his first wife so much.

It was that he had been betrayed by her.

Hunter jerked his wrist from Elyssa’s grasp, as though her touch was distasteful to him.

“Stop sneaking off to see Bill,” Hunter said harshly. “After I bury those damned Culpeppers, you can move in with Bill for all I care. But not until.”

“I’m not like Belinda. I love Bill, but not in that way.”

Hunter’s upper lip curled in silent disbelief.

“I saw four Culpeppers,” he said. “Were there any more?”

Elyssa wanted to argue about the differences between herself and Belinda, but a look at Hunter’s eyes convinced her that now was the wrong time.

Maybe tomorrow.

Or the day after.

Maybe by then Hunter would be more reasonable.

Maybe by then his eyes wouldn’t look like clear black slices of hell.

“I didn’t see any other Culpeppers,” Elyssa said. “There was another man, though.”

Hunter watched her with unnerving intensity.

“I think he was the most dangerous of all,” she said.

“You recognized him?”

“No. Not by name.”

“Then how do you know he’s dangerous?”

Elyssa blew out a soft breath. Some of the deadly chill was leaving Hunter’s voice.

“By the way he didn’t move,” she said simply.

“What does that mean?”

“Most men fidget or shift their weight or fiddle with their mustache or their cartridge belt or something.”

Hunter waited, motionless. His very stillness reminded Elyssa of the other man.

“This man didn’t move except to breathe,” Elyssa said. “He wasn’t keyed up or frightened or bloodthirsty or anything at all. He was just…ready.”

“For what?”

“Whatever came. He would take it, whatever it was, without flinching. As though nothing could touch him but death, and death held no terrors for him. Like you were when you first came to the ranch.”

Bugle Boy snorted and pulled against the bit.

Hunter ignored the horse. The realization that he had missed one of the men surrounding Elyssa made him deeply uneasy.

“I didn’t see him,” Hunter said.

“He was standing apart from the Culpeppers.”

“What did he look like?”

“He was…”

Elyssa’s voice faded. She looked at Hunter.

“He was rather like you in height and build,” she said finally. “Or maybe it was just that he was wearing bits of an old Confederate uniform that made me think of you.”

“Left-or right-handed?”

“Six-gun in one hand and a repeating rifle in the other.”

Hunter smiled thinly. “No wonder he wasn’t worried.”

“And moccasins,” Elyssa said.

“Moccasins?” Hunter asked, his voice sharp.

“Yes. He was wearing knee-high moccasins. Fringed. Like Apache moccasins.”

Elyssa tilted her head to one side as a thought occurred to her.

“I don’t think,” she said, “that anyone else saw him. He just sort of appeared at the edge of a willow thicket when the mist cleared.”

“Fringed moccasins,” Hunter repeated softly. “Be damned.”

Elyssa stared. There was a blending of emotions in Hunter’s voice that intrigued her. Affection was one emotion. Respect was another. Anticipation was a third.

But it was compassion that gave Hunter’s voice a gentleness that was startling.

“Do you know him?” she asked.

“Maybe. A lot of men wear moccasins.”

“Not all that many, surely.”

Hunter smiled. “I’ve been known to myself, when I was on the stalk.”

“Who is he?”

“If he’s who I think he is, you’re right. That boy wasn’t the least bit worried about what would happen next.”

T
hat night, long after everyone was asleep, a stair creaked softly under Hunter’s weight.

Damnation
, he thought fiercely.

He waited, breath held, for sounds that would tell him Elyssa was awake and moving around in her room.

Nothing came to Hunter’s ears but the rhythm of his own heart and the gusting of the cold autumn wind around the eaves.

Carefully Hunter resumed sneaking down the stairs. Making no noise, he went out the kitchen door and walked quickly across the ground to the barn.

Though clouds were piled heavily over the mountains, bright moonlight poured over him every step of the way.

I could read brands at thirty feet by this light
.

Hell
.

Wish that storm would stop grumbling and get on with covering the sky
.

But there was no time to wait for the storm to consume the moonlight. After what Elyssa had said about the man in knee-high moccasins who had appeared at Bill’s ranch today, Hunter had decided to try for a meeting tonight, whether moonlight or storm accompanied him.

Cautiously, swiftly, Hunter went on foot into the
night. His moccasins made no noise on the earth. He took the first ghost trail he found.

And as he did, he wondered how many times Elyssa’s soft little feet had trod on the same path. The thought didn’t make him feel more kindly toward Bill Moreland.

Hunter was still on Ladder S land when a low voice spoke behind him.

“Hell of a night for a walk.”

Hunter froze. Then he spun around, smiling.

“Hello, Case,” Hunter said. “I was beginning to wonder if you got lost.”

“That will be the day.”

Hunter smiled, thumped Case on the shoulder, and got thumped in turn. Case didn’t smile in return, but Hunter knew there was no lack of welcome in his younger brother.

Hunter hadn’t seen Case smile since the war.

“Follow me,” Case said in a low voice. “You keep running around in the moonlight like some damned fairy and you’ll get yourself killed.”

With a soft laugh, Hunter followed his brother.

A few minutes later Hunter and Case were in a shallow, dry watercourse. It was edged by willows and arched over by big cottonwood trees. Moonlight gave way to dense shadows.

Over the mountains, lightning ripped through the sky. Thunder grumbled raggedly. Wind swirled in the cottonwoods, stripping off frost-killed leaves and whirling them into the night.

“When did you get here?” Hunter asked in a low voice.

“Three days ago. Morgan’s message caught me down toward the Spanish Bottoms.”

“Did you find Culpeppers there?”

“What’s down there will keep. Ab’s up here.”

Hunter heard all that Case didn’t say. It was Ab Cul
pepper who had led the bloody, cruel raid on Hunter’s ranch in Texas.

It was Ab Culpepper the brothers had sworn would be brought to justice, no matter what.

“So I saw,” Hunter said. “Twice.”

“I wondered about that. I’m surprised you didn’t just drop him.”

There was no question in Case’s voice, but Hunter answered anyhow.

“The first time I saw him, Elyssa was along. I was getting ready to drop him anyway, but he met up with four other men.”

Case’s eyebrows rose. “So?”

“So I didn’t want to put her in danger. The second time was this morning. Ab was standing too close to her. If I missed…” Hunter shrugged.

“Not much chance that you would miss a man-sized target at that range.”

“I didn’t want to risk it, no matter how small the chance.”

Case’s hazel eyes gave Hunter a considering look. Though Case said nothing, he was still surprised that Hunter hadn’t just dropped Ab where he stood.

There were enough Wanted, Dead or Alive, posters out on Ab to make it perfectly legal. Besides, Ab had earned whatever death came his way, however it came. So had his kin, whether they were cousins, brothers, or half brothers.

Or, in some cases, two of the three. Pappy Culpepper hadn’t much worried about blood relation when he felt randy.

“How many men does Ab have?” Hunter asked.

“About twenty.”

“How many Culpeppers?”

“Five, including Ab,” Case said. “He got here just before I did.”

“I’ve seen Gaylord. Who are the other three?”

“Erasmus, Horace, and Kester.”

Hunter ran through his mental list of Culpeppers. Norbert and Orville had been killed by Texans just before the rest of the Culpepper clan ran amok.

Sedgewick and Tilden had been foolish enough to stick around Texas, raiding banks, mule trains, and settlers until Case and Hunter returned from the war. The two Culpeppers drowned in the Rio Grande trying to escape to Mexico. As the river was only knee-high at the time, the boys would have lived if they hadn’t been too drunk to lift their faces out of the water.

That left five of the Culpeppers who had been involved in the Texas massacre unaccounted for.

“What happened to Ichabod and Jeremiah, and Parnel, Quincy, and Reginald?” Hunter asked.

“Ichabod and Jeremiah drew cards in the wrong game down toward Spanish Forks.”

Hunter’s black eyebrows rose.

“The other three are still looking for Spanish treasure,” Case said.

“Jeremiah was supposed to be greased lightning with his six-gun,” Hunter said neutrally.

“So I hear,” Case said. “Ichabod was faster, though. He damn near got me.”

Hunter whistled softly through his teeth.

“Watch out, brother,” Hunter said. “You’ll get yourself a reputation as a gunslick. Then every kid with a six-gun and a yen to swagger will hunt you.”

“Nobody knew me when I walked into that whiskey emporium. Nobody knew me when I walked out.”

“Where was Ab?” Hunter asked.

“Already headed for the Rubies.”

For a moment Hunter studied the ragged patches of moonlight that made their way through the cottonwoods.

“Ab, Erasmus, Gaylord, Horace, and Kester,” Hunter
said finally. “Any other raiders worth mentioning?”

Case shrugged. “The rest of the men are all gun handy, when they’re sober, but nothing to keep a man awake nights worrying.”

Hunter snorted. He couldn’t imagine anything that would keep Case awake nights worrying.

“How many men do you have?” Case asked.

“Seven, plus some cowhands. Eight, counting you.”

“Almost four to one.”

“That’s the way I figure it,” Hunter said.

“Well,” Case drawled, “don’t count out Bill Moreland. He may look drunk, but that old boy is shrewd as a hungry bear.”

“That son of a bitch has tried to kill Elyssa at least three times that I know of.”

One of Case’s dark eyebrows rose. He whistled very softly through his teeth. Then he shook his head.

“No,” Case said quietly.

“What does that mean?”

“Bill wouldn’t hurt his Sassy.”

“The hell he wouldn’t. I saw him draw a bead on her with a gun!”

“When?” Case asked.

“Three nights ago.”

“Then it wasn’t Bill.”

“How can you be so damned certain?” Hunter asked angrily.

“I played cards with him from sundown to dawn.”

“But…”

Case waited for Hunter to finish.

“Damn!” Hunter said.

“Something wrong?”

“If it wasn’t Bill Moreland—”

“It wasn’t,” Case interrupted.

“—then there’s traitor on the Ladder S payroll.”

“That’s what I’m figuring,” Case said.

“What makes you say that?”

“There’s a man out there somewhere who keeps bringing information to Ab and Gaylord.”

“What kind of information?” Hunter asked.

“How many hands the Ladder S has. How many of them are gunmen.”

Hunter muttered something unpleasant.

“How many cows you’ve collected,” Case continued neutrally, “what kind, and where they’re being held. How many mustangs.”

A hissed word was Hunter’s only response.

“How many branded horses,” Case said. “How many green-broke broncs. That kind of thing.”

“The kind of thing you used to do during the war. Information.”

Case nodded.

“Damn!” Hunter muttered. “We’ve got enough going against us without having a spy in the bunkhouse.”

“Was I you, I’d start dropping Culpeppers where I found them.”

“Too dangerous. If we don’t get all of them at once, it will be Texas all over again. The survivors will kill every man within reach of their guns, rape and kill the women, poison the land, and set fire to anything that burns.”

Case didn’t deny it. The Culpeppers had fully earned their reputation as ruthless, brutal raiders.

“Then you’d better find your traitor and hang him,” Case said bluntly. “He knows too much.”

Hunter didn’t say a word. He was thinking fast and hard.

None of his thoughts brought comfort.

Case waited for his brother to talk again. There was no impatience in Case as he stood there. Impatience meant that a person had a weakness—he was looking forward to something.

After a few years of war, Case had looked forward
only to going home to Texas. Then he had gone home and discovered that his beloved niece and nephew had been sold to Comancheros.

After Case found what was left of Ted and little Em, he had stopped looking forward to anything at all.

Even vengeance.

To Case, bringing Culpeppers to justice was something that had to be done, like slaughtering pigs or digging a new hole for the privy. No man enjoyed the duty, but no man worth the name shirked it.

“Well, that ties it,” Hunter said savagely. “What does the man look like?”

“I don’t know. I can’t get close to him.”

“I didn’t think there was anything you couldn’t sneak up on.”

“Neither did I. Live and learn. He knows that marsh the way a hawk knows the sky.”

“Is he big?” Hunter asked, thinking of Mickey.

“I don’t know. He’s real careful not to leave tracks.”

“Figures. Who does he talk to?”

“Gaylord or Ab,” Case said.

“When?”

“Whenever he feels like it. As I said, he knows the territory real well.”

“And the dogs know him,” Hunter said, disgusted.

“I wondered about that. I keep hearing how he comes and goes from the Ladder S any time he pleases.”

“It must be Mickey, Lefty, or Gimp. No one else has been here long enough to know the land as well as this damned ghost does.”

“I don’t think a man with a limp could have shaken me off,” Case said. “That marsh gets real rough, real quick.”

“That leaves Mickey or Lefty,” Hunter said. “Frankly, I’m thinking it’s neither.”

“Why?”

“Mickey is mean enough,” Hunter said, “but I doubt that he knows the land well enough to shake you off his trail. Lefty knows the land, but he isn’t mean enough.”

“Someone sure to God is.”

“Are you certain it isn’t Bill?” Hunter asked. “He’s mean enough and he knows the land.”

“He’s mean,” Case agreed, “but not mean enough to kill his own daughter.”

“His
daughter
?”

Case made a small, swift motion that demanded silence. He drew his gun with frightening ease and started toward the underbrush.

Hunter breathed in fast. The scent of rosemary came to him on the wind. His hand shot out, holding Case back. Hunter shook his head slightly.

“Sassy,” Hunter said.

His voice was too low for anyone but Case to hear.

Hunter had halfway expected to find that Elyssa had followed him. Part of him even had hoped that she would come to him in the night.

The thought of walking Elyssa back in the darkness made his body tighten and his blood sing.

Without a word Case holstered his gun.

“What makes you think Bill and Sassy are related by blood?” Hunter asked.

“Bill got drunk and talked about a woman called Gloria,” Case said bluntly. “Said he loved her. Said he was her lover.”

“No wonder Sassy wants to protect Bill,” Hunter muttered. “He’s her father.”

“She doesn’t know. At least, that’s what Bill said.”

Hunter turned toward the willows.

“Well, Sassy,” he said, raising his voice just enough to carry to Elyssa. “Is Bill right?”

For a few moments there was nothing but silence and the wind.

“Come on out,” Hunter said in a low, impatient voice. “You might as well meet my brother Case.”

The willows shivered and parted. Elyssa walked out into the shadows at the base of the big cottonwoods. She didn’t even look at Case. She looked only at Hunter.

There was enough shifting moonlight to show the shock on Elyssa’s face. Her expression told the men she was trying to get used to the idea that Bill Moreland claimed to be her father.

“I didn’t know,” she whispered. “But it explains…”

Elyssa’s voice died.

“Explains what?” Hunter asked softly.

“What went wrong between my father and Bill,” Elyssa said simply. “And why Bill was like a father to me whenever my own father was gone. Which was most of the time. Father was a prospector.”

Hunter’s eyes narrowed. He, too, had been gone a lot during his marriage. He had been soldiering rather than hunting gold, yet the result was the same.

Belinda had been left alone long enough to get into trouble with the neighbor man. And, if rumor was to be believed, others as well.

“But still,” Elyssa whispered, “it’s hard to believe that my mother and Bill were that…close.”

“It happens,” Case said calmly.

“A faithless flirt of a woman,” Hunter said, his voice rough. “Like Belinda.”

Elyssa flinched. “Mother wasn’t…”

Again her voice faded to silence. Given what Bill had said, she could hardly argue that her mother had been faithful to her father.

“She wasn’t a flirt,” Elyssa said. “She must have loved Bill very much. Yet she loved her husband, too.”

“At least you have a friend in the Culpepper camp,” Case said.

For the first time Elyssa really saw Case. She looked from his fringed moccasins to Hunter, who also wore moccasins. The resemblance between the brothers didn’t end there. The men were the same size, the same build, and they walked alike.

The difference between them was subtle, but very real to Elyssa. Case was a dark, brooding, motionless presence. Even in sunlight, Elyssa doubted that laughter would light his eyes. Hunter had been like that when he first arrived at the Ladder S.