Judith E French (34 page)

As much as she wanted to, she didn’t drink from the water hole. She shook the water out of her hair and waded through the natural sink to the place where the icy flow trickled out of a crack in the rocks. Then she pressed her lips against the stone and let the life-giving liquid fill her parched mouth.

She swallowed only a small amount, then went back to rinse her arms and face again. Her hair was a tangle of dust and knots, and she washed and braided it into a single plait before returning to drink from the spring.

“What’s takin’ you so long?” Nate yelled.

“I’m coming,” she answered. Reluctantly she went back for the meat and began cleaning it.

She needed a plan. If she could get to a horse, maybe she could outride them. But that was unlikely. Her ribs ached with each breath, and her legs were raw where they’d rubbed against the stirrup leathers.

“Do I have to come and get you?” Nate demanded.

“Coming.” She bent to pick up the venison and felt a faint fluttering sensation in her womb. “Oh.” She gasped. And then she felt the same movement again.

Her baby. Her baby was alive and kicking.

Instinctively Caitlin placed both palms over her belly. “I love you,” she whispered, “and I’ll protect you. I promise.”

The snap of a twig brought her instantly alert. She grabbed the venison and started back toward the campfire. Although it was the early part of April, the underbrush was thick with green leaves and growing vines. So green and lovely a place, she thought. Nothing terrible should happen in so beautiful a spot.

Nate’s gaze made her skin crawl as she entered the clearing. “Makin’ yourself all pretty for me, huh?”

“For us,” Long Neck Jack added with a chuckle. “I ain’t riskin’ my life for the money we get for these broncs. We’re partners, and I expect my share of everything.”

She could kill him as well as Nate, Caitlin thought. But she kept her face expressionless as she went to the fire and threw the meat down on a flat stone. “I need a knife to cut up the venison,” she said. “Unless you plan on waiting until tomorrow night to eat, I’ve got to—”

“I’ll do the only cuttin’ around here,” Nate said. She heard the hiss of steel against leather as he drew his knife. “You’d love to get your hands on this, wouldn’t you? Cut my throat, wouldn’t you?” He laughed. “Maybe
not. Thinkin’ about killin’ is a lot easier than actually doin’ it, ain’t that so, Long Neck?”

He sliced through the meat with sharp, quick slashes. “Now, me, I don’t mind getting blood on my hands,” he continued. “I put a bullet through that man of yours, and I did for that dirty Injun cowboy.” He lifted the gore-stained knife and held it to Caitlin’s throat.

She jerked back away from him and put the fire between them. “Barbarian,” she muttered.

Nate spat a wad of tobacco into the fire and laughed. “Wonderin’ if I’ll do for you, too, ain’t ya? Maybe I will, and maybe I won’t. It jest depends on how sweet you are to me.”

Caitlin knotted her fingers into fists and didn’t answer. She wanted to scratch out his eyes and push him into the flames of the campfire. But what Nate said was true—killing a man was hard. She might have only one chance, and she didn’t intend to risk it by acting hastily.

By the time the venison was done, Nate and Long Neck were half drunk on whiskey and rolling dice to see which one would have her first. Caitlin told herself that she had to eat to keep up her strength. She put the grilled meat into her mouth and chewed, but she couldn’t force down a single bite.

The men cut hunks off the venison with their knives. They chewed noisily, wiping the fat off their mouths onto their shirtsleeves, and then washed the food down with more whiskey.

A golden dusk was settling around them. The sun had dropped below the trees, and the air was already turning cooler. It would be dark soon, and Caitlin knew that if she was going to act to save herself, it must be now.

“Please,” she said, coming close. “I need … I need to relieve myself.”

“Piss where we can see you,” Long Neck replied. “I’m winnin’, and I don’t want to lose sight of my prize.”

She felt a hot flush spread up her throat and face. “I need to … the other.”

“Go on, then,” Nate said as he threw the dice again. “But you try to run and I’ll carve your face so Long Neck will throw a saddle blanket over your head before he jumps ya.”

Caitlin entered the woods near the spring. Hastily she took another drink and then ran through the trees as fast as she could. She came up on the far side of the herd, near the hobbled bell mare, and tried to think straight.

Gabe might ride a horse without a saddle or bridle, even Shane or Justice might, but she couldn’t. Nate had ordered Long Neck to unsaddle the mounts they’d ridden into the camp, and he’d taken the bridles off so that the horses could graze.

Unsure what to do, Caitlin crept closer to Nancy, whispering to the mare in soft, soothing murmurs.

“Where are you, you bitch?” Nate shouted.

Nancy shied and her bell jingled. A small black mare with a white blaze pushed between Caitlin and Nancy. Caitlin seized hold of the black’s mane and flung herself belly down across the animal’s withers. The horse snorted and took a few steps as Caitlin struggled to get her right leg up over the animal’s back. In spite of her skirt and petticoats, she’d almost succeeded when she heard Long Neck Jack’s voice behind her.

“Goin’ somewhere?” The rustler’s hand closed on her thick braid, and he yanked her back off the horse. She hit the ground hard, and he knelt with one knee on either side of her. “You don’t want to go before the funnin’,” he said as he fondled her breast roughly.

He brought his face down to kiss her, and she
screamed and drove the palm of her hand up into his nose. Blood sprayed. Long Neck let out a yelp and jumped back.

Caitlin scrambled up and ran, dodging through the milling horses. Cursing, he raced after her. A mule kicked out at Caitlin, and she tripped and nearly fell before steadying herself against a bay and then darting between two more animals.

Her spirits soared. A few more yards and she’d be in the trees, her flight hidden by the restless herd. She ducked under a gelding’s belly and dashed straight into the arms of Nate Bone.

“Goin’ somewhere?” He grabbed her by the arm and twisted it behind her back. “Not yet, you’re not.”

Caitlin screamed in fury and fought him with every ounce of her will. Her blows seemed useless as he dragged her away from the horses.

“Fight!” he taunted her. “I like it when my women are feisty.” As soon as he reached a clear spot in the trees, he threw her down in the grass.

“No!” she cried.

“This is as good a spot as any,” he said, fumbling with his trousers. “Once you see what I got here, you’ll scream a different tune.” He unbuckled his belt with its fringed knife sheath and holstered pistol and let it fall to the grass.

“No! You son of a bitch! I’ll kill you first!” she flung at him.

Nate laughed. “I told ya, you’re gonna love it.” He dropped his pants around his knees.

Caitlin rolled and made a grab for Nate’s gun, but he seized the belt and tossed it away. He kicked off his pants and lunged for her.

She screamed and struck out at him with her fists. She
knew she was weakening fast, but she didn’t care anymore. She’d rather die than let him put his filthy hands on her.

Nate slapped her face and flung her back against a tree.

Caitlin’s head was ringing so that she didn’t hear the pounding of hooves until Shane was almost upon them. His lathered horse burst through the trees, scattering the herd. Shouting her name, he wheeled the exhausted gelding in a tight circle. “Caity!”

“Here!” she screamed. “I’m here!”

Shane spurred his horse at Nate and sighted down his rifle barrel at the outlaw. Nate dodged out of the path of Shane’s horse, but at the last second Shane took his finger off the trigger and smashed the rifle barrel against the cutthroat’s head.

“There’s another man!” she screamed. “There!” She pointed to where she’d last seen Long Neck Jack.

A shot rang out, and the horses panicked and began to scatter. Shane rose in his stirrups and fired his rifle. Another shot ricocheted through the clearing.

“Caity! Get down!” Shane shouted. He drew his pistol and tried to find his target through the trees.

Then a movement on the ground caught Caitlin’s eye. In spite of the blood running down his face from Shane’s blow, Nate had dragged himself into a half-sitting position. From a hidden holster strapped to his right calf, he pulled a small brass-plated derringer.

As Caitlin watched in horror, Nate raised the weapon, cocked it, and took aim at the center of Shane’s back. “Shane! Behind you!” she shouted as she scrambled for Nate’s discarded belt.

Shane heard her warning cry and glanced back. At the same instant Long Neck Jack appeared in the midst of the horses. His rifle spat smoke and lead, and Shane twisted in the saddle and returned fire with his pistol.
Long Neck’s bullet missed; Shane’s didn’t. The outlaw went down.

“Look at me, McKenna!” Nate Bone shouted.

Shane turned to face him.

“Your pistol’s empty,” Nate said. “You’ve done for Long Neck, but I’ll swive your woman over your dead body.”

Sweat ran down Caitlin’s throat, and her heart hammered against her chest so loudly that she feared Nate would hear it. She crouched within arm’s length of Nate’s back, her fingers outstretched, desperately reaching for the ivory grip of Nate’s still holstered pistol.

“You thought you were smart, didn’t ya, McKenna?” Nate boasted. “But you never knew that I was the one stealin’ your stock, and you never knew it was my brother you hung.”

Caitlin felt Shane’s eyes on her, trusting her, adding his strength of will to her own. One final effort and she grasped the weapon. It slid from the worn, leather holster without making a sound.

“You never should’ve taken that Indian’s side against mine, McKenna!” Nate said. “Have you got anything else to say before I blow ya to hell?”

Caitlin saw the muscles along Nate’s neck twitch and knew that Shane was a heartbeat away from dying. She didn’t hesitate.

She fired.

Nate slumped sideways, and the derringer fell from his lifeless fingers. Caitlin kicked the weapon away as she ran toward Shane.

When she reached his side, she was crying too hard to speak. She clung to his leg and dampened his dusty trousers with her tears.

“No need to take on so, woman,” he said, caressing the crown of her head awkwardly. When she stopped crying enough to look up at him, he traced the line of her eyebrow and trailed down her cheek with rough fingertips. “Shhh, shhh, don’t cry, Caity. Don’t cry. You rip my guts out when you cry.”

She held her arms up to him, and he shook his head. “I can’t get off,” he admitted.

“You what?” The absurdity of his statement broke through her near hysteria. “You can’t get off your horse?”

Shane drew his knife and handed it to her, hilt first.
“I’m tied into the saddle.” He tried to grin, but the pain in his eyes was impossible to miss. “It was Rachel’s idea. She said I was too weak to ride unless we made sure I couldn’t fall off.”

“Rachel? How did Rachel …” Her question died uncompleted as she realized how hurt he really was. “Your wounds,” she cried. “You’ve started them bleeding again.” With trembling hands she began to saw through the leather bonds that held his booted feet tightly in the stirrups.

“No, wait.” Shane took several deep breaths and gathered his strength. “Is there a creek? Water?”

“Yes.”

“Take me to the water. Once I get off this damned horse, it will be hell getting me back on.”

“You should have stayed at Kilronan,” she began and then broke off as she realized how foolish her words were. “No,” she corrected herself. “I needed you, Shane. I needed you more than I’ve ever needed anyone in my life, and you came for me.”

He wound a lock of her hair around his finger. “Did you think I wouldn’t come for you?”

She smiled up at him with all the love in her heart. “I knew you would,” she whispered. “We knew you would.”

If Shane noticed the
we
, he made no mention of the fact. He gritted his teeth and reloaded his rifle and pistol. Her assurances that the outlaws were dead and couldn’t hurt them didn’t matter.

“I don’t intend to be caught with an empty gun next time.”

“There won’t be a next time,” she promised as she led his horse toward the spring. “It’s over. Nate was the one who wanted to kill you. Nate—”

“Are you all right?” Shane leaned down and grasped her shoulder. “He hurt you.”

She touched the swollen bruise on her cheekbone. “I’m battered, but not broken,” she answered. “You came in time to keep him from—”

“It doesn’t matter. Whatever happened to you,” Shane said fiercely, “it doesn’t matter—only that you’re alive and—”

“You thick-pated Irishman. What have I been telling you? My virtue—your honor—is safe enough. He would have had his way with me if you’d been a quarter-hour later, but—”

“Nothing could ever tarnish your virtue, Caity,” he managed thickly. “You’ve got more honor in one finger than any man I’ve ever met.”

“I’m all right, husband.” Husband. Nothing could dim the thrill of that word … so right, so perfect for what Shane was to her. “My bruises will heal. It’s yours I’m worried about. And …” She glanced into his bloodshot eyes. “I think we lost some of your horses.”

“To hell with the horses. I’ve got what I want.”

They reached the spring, and Shane’s weary gelding lowered his head to drink. Caitlin let the horse have only a little water before tying him to a tree. “We’d best get you down,” she said to Shane, “so that I can see what you’ve done to those bullet wounds.”

“Nothing that a week’s sleep and you in my arms won’t fix.”

She cut the last of the ties and helped to ease him out of the saddle. His knees buckled, and she slipped an arm around him.

Shane cursed softly under his breath, but he put one foot in front of the other and walked to the edge of the rock bowl. Then he lowered himself painfully to the ground.

“Don’t drink that,” Caitlin warned. She went to the
trickle of water, rinsed her hands, and cupped them to catch the precious liquid. She carried the water to him and held it to his lips.