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Authors: The Lone Texan

BOOK: Jodi Thomas
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T
HE GUARD NAMED LUTHER MARCHED SAGE BACK TO Count Hanover’s house the next morning without a word. She tried talking to him, but he didn’t answer.
She found the count sitting up in his bed, eating a breakfast of toast and tea.
His eyes were more alert. He watched her as she walked into the room. “You look better today,” he said. “Myron tells me the bullet is still embedded, so your work is not done. I do feel better, however. I suppose I have you to thank for that.”
“You look better,” she answered truthfully. He had a bit of color in his cheeks. They’d made a little progress yesterday.
He waved his tray aside. “The bullet still hurts like hell, but the poultice you put on and the lancing of the festering wounds has eased the pain some.” He nodded, offering her a seat beside his bed. “Today you’ll operate.”
“Yes,” she said. “And then you’ll let me go, correct?”
He frowned. “Of course. As soon as I’m well.”
It wasn’t much of a promise, but Sage knew better than to push the point. She waited until early afternoon when she had the sun’s light in the windows. The count, despite all his talk of wanting the surgery, grew more and more hard to talk to as the day aged. She was glad when she started the opium. If he’d had to wait another hour, he probably would have had to kill something or someone.
There was a good chance she could heal the wounds on his back, but the poison in his mind would still be there. He saw himself as ruler of his tiny kingdom, and he allowed no one to question him.
Myron acted as her assistant, and Luther watched her every move. If she cut too deep and left the count paralyzed, she had a feeling she wouldn’t have to worry about getting home.
She wasn’t aware of time passing until Myron lit the lamps. Sage forced her hand steady as she worked as fast as she could.
Finally, the bullet pulled free of bone and tumbled out. Next she had to clean the wound and stitch him up. When she finished, they didn’t offer to take her back to her cell; the guards assumed she’d stay beside the count’s bed all night. Myron offered her supper and a blanket.
Sage slept in a chair between checking the wound and giving more opium. By daybreak, fever had set in, and her next round of fighting began.
Myron did what he could, but he was not a nurse. He made sure she had fresh water, clean towels, and left trays of food, which she never had time to touch.
It took two days for the fever to break, and when it did, the count was weak, almost helpless. She fed him soup, changed his bandages, and listened to his ramblings. Once, he grabbed her hand and kissed it as formally as if they’d been introduced in court.
Finally, he slept soundly.
Sage crawled into the overstuffed chair and did the same.
When she woke the next morning, the count was staring at her. “You saved my life.”
“Then I can go?”
He smiled as if catching her in a lie. “No. I’ve decided I have need of your services.” He closed his eyes and sighed. “I don’t lower myself to mix with the whores very often, so you’ll get no diseases from me. You’ll have the run of the house in daylight, and when you’re not in my bed, I’ll lock you in a fine room at night. You’ll have new clothes and whatever you need within reason. It’ll be my gift to you for saving my life.”
Sage had been half-asleep when he’d started and couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “I’m not interested in marriage.”
He laughed. “I’m not offering marriage. At least not like you think. We do have a kind of marriage here. If a man claims a woman, no other man can take her. It’s a strict rule, or we’d have fights over females all the time. You’d be mine. No other man would bother you.”
“I’m still not interested.” She stood. “I’ll check your bandage, make sure you’re not bleeding, then I’ll be on my way. I can buy my own dresses.”
He didn’t move, but she saw the change in his eyes, the kind of insanity that comes when someone believes he has complete power.
He tapped his cane on the floor, and the guard appeared. “Lock her up,” he said simply.
Luther looked confused but took Sage’s arm.
The count glared at her. “I’ll ask you again tonight, but let me warn you, if you don’t agree, you’ll be very, very sorry. No one, man or woman, refuses me.”
She wanted to say she already was sorry. She should have let him die. But he was like a wounded animal. She couldn’t be sure what he’d do. Maybe if she went away for a few hours, he’d come to his senses and realize she’d saved his life.
Luther didn’t say a word as he took her back to the cell. He’d seen what she’d done for the count, but his job was to follow orders.
No bath or food awaited her when she stepped into her prison. Sage curled on the bed and felt along the hem of her petticoat for her little gun. She’d shoot him tonight if she had to, but she’d not live with him.
She almost laughed. She’d just spent three days fighting to save a man she was now planning to kill. There was no downhill from here. Her life had to get better.
Just to prove herself wrong, Sneezy’s thin face appeared at the barred window of her cell. After his verbal torturing on the trail, she’d hoped never to see the man again.
He giggled as he stared at her. “I’ve been thinking about it. I think I should burn you before I kill you. Burns hurt real bad when they bubble the skin, and I’ve heard tell the screams echo for days in this canyon.”
“What happened to your face?” she asked, noticing the dark bruise along his forehead.
“Luther hit me with a rifle butt for no reason.” He touched the spot as if he’d forgotten about it. “It didn’t hurt all that much. Not near as bad as the burns are going to hurt you. There’s a big party tonight. The whiskey wagon is here. Once Hanover and that pet dog of his, Luther, down a few, they’ll forget all about you. When the gambling starts, I’ll get a key and come pay you a visit. I owe you. You won’t be so high and mighty when you smell your own skin burning.”
“I’ll be waiting,” she answered, outlining the gun in her skirts.
He disappeared.
Sage turned her face to the wall, wishing she could sleep. Even a nightmare would be better than the hell she was trapped in.
CHAPTER 21
 
 
D
RUMMOND ROAK LOWERED THE BRIM OF HIS NEW black hat until his face was in shadow, then he walked into the saloon. Because he looked every ounce a gunfighter, he found himself moving like one, slow and cautious.
On the long ride through Skull Alley, Daniel and he had decided it would be safer for Drum to be one of the gamblers than to try to hide out in a whiskey wagon. They agreed he could pull off gunfighter far easier, and the two occupations ran hand in hand. If a traveling gambler couldn’t defend himself in the street, he wouldn’t last long. Daniel had seen him in action. He claimed Roak was not only the fastest gun he’d ever seen but also the most accurate.
Three days ago, Drum had scrubbed in the stream while they waited at the opening of Skull Alley for the whiskey wagon and the gamblers. When he’d stepped out in his new black clothes and fine tooled vest, Daniel almost hadn’t recognized him. Drum shaved his two-week-old beard with a clean razor line across his cheek, making his jaw look even squarer than it already was. The dark beard made him look older. His bullet-gray eyes looked deadly serious beneath the brim of his black hat.
Daniel looked relieved to see his pa pull up with the gamblers about nightfall that first day. He claimed he couldn’t have held Drummond at the opening for another day. By dawn on the second day, Drum was ready to ride and didn’t like it much when they camped for the night halfway through the canyon. He wanted to get to Sage.
He’d lost enough money the first night on the journey with the gamblers that they not only allowed but insisted he come along the rest of the way. They saw the money they won from Drum as all theirs and not money they’d have to split with the count.
Daniel held back, acting like he didn’t know Roak. They’d planned it that way. Just in case Roak was caught, Daniel would still have a chance of getting Sage out.
“Don’t worry what happens to me if I’m caught,” Drum had said several times. “Just get Sage to safety.”
Now, after talking and planning for three days, they were in the hideout, and Drum walked toward the bar as if he had no plans other than to gamble the night away. Several heads looked his way when he stepped into the smoke-filled room. He was new, untried, but from the way he wore his gun, they guessed he was fast, and none of the outlaws seemed in any hurry to try his luck.
Drum took a place along the thirty-foot bar two men down from Daniel Torry. They didn’t speak, but as the customers between them refilled their mugs and moved on, Drum closed the distance until he stood next to the Ranger.
Once the music started, Daniel whispered, “The big game starts at midnight. If I were guessing, it’s set that late so the locals will be drunk before they play.” He tipped his glass to Drum. “That’s when you might want to have an exit plan, unless you’re a lot better at cards than I think you are. The way you look, no one in the place would question you’re a gunfighter, but trust me, they’ll know you’re not a gambler ten minutes after you sit down.”
Roak didn’t know how to take Daniel’s teasing, so he changed the subject. “What have you heard about Sage?”
“Not much, just that the count had an operation three days ago and is recovering. Before that, there were bets on what day he’d die.” Daniel took a long drink. “We might be able to look around in about an hour. They’re having a virgin auction before the game, so every man in the camp will be in here watching.”
Drum smiled at Daniel Torry. They’d both been around these hideouts long enough to know the scheme. Some prostitute, not known in the area, would claim to be a virgin. She’d go for several times what the normal rate was. Sometimes they’d auction her again the next night as almost a virgin.
“You ever try to save one?” Drummond asked. In all his years at the camps, he’d only been fooled once by what he thought was a woman in distress.
Daniel nodded. “The first time I heard about one being sold to the highest bidder, I was delivering whiskey with my pa down by the border. I broke into her room and tried to help her escape.”
“What’d she do?”
Daniel shook his head. “I thought that woman was going to beat me to death. In fact, I blame her for being half afraid of every woman I meet. You never know when one that looks like a virgin will turn into a fire-breathing whore. She left so many knots on my head, I couldn’t wear a hat for months.”
Drum laughed.
“How about you, Roak? Did you ever save a girl?”
“Nope,” Drum lied. He had stepped in once and gotten a girl out. She couldn’t have been more than sixteen. She’d run off with an outlaw, thinking she’d reform him. He put her up for auction for drinking money after they’d been together for about a month. Drum had stepped in, gotten her away, and took her back to within a few miles of her home.
He’d patted himself on the back for the fine job he’d done until he heard later that her father beat her so badly for running away that she’d be crippled up for the rest of her life. Folks said he treated her worse than a slave around the place, knowing that no man would ever take her off again.
Drum downed his whiskey, washing away the memory. Why did life always have to be so hard? Even telling right from wrong was hard to keep straight. The only marker he had was Teagen McMurray. Sometimes, when he couldn’t tell which way to go, he’d think about what the head of the McMurrays would do. Teagen, Sage’s oldest brother, was one man who saw the world in black and white. For Drum, the world was gray. He knew killing was wrong, but like Captain Harmon said, there were a few who needed to be hurried to meet their maker.
Tonight, however, he knew what was right. He had to find Sage, and if he had to tear every board of this town apart, he would. He couldn’t stand the thought of her in a place like this. He knew towns like this. A good day was when the smell of a rotting body didn’t pollute the air.
As it turned out, Drum didn’t have to search all that far for Sage, because she stepped into the bar just as he ordered another drink.

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