Lorraine Heath (34 page)

“Tell me who it is,” Cooper yelled, “or I’ll whip her to death.”

When Cooper brought his arm back, Dallas raced across the expanse separating him from Dee. He pressed his body flush against hers, drawing in a hissing breath through his teeth as the whip bit into his back.

Reaching up, he fumbled with the knots in the rope.

“If you untie them ropes, Tobias will shoot her!”

Dallas stilled his hands. He’d never in his life asked or begged for anything. “Christ! You want me on my knees, crawling on my belly? I’ll do anything you want, just take her into town. Let her register for a room at the hotel. The man and the money are waiting for you.”

“So you say,” Cooper yelled. “The law’s probably waiting on me.”

Dallas heard the whistle and clenched his teeth, but he couldn’t stop his body from jerking when the whip sliced across his back. His shirt offered little protection against the razor-sharp tip, and he realized with sickening dread that he had lost his gamble. He’d hoped his change in the plans would have forced Cooper to honor his end of the bargain.

He wrapped his hands around Dee’s trembling fists, gasping when the lash hit him again.

“Move away,” she whispered hoarsely.

“No.” He slammed his eyes closed when the pain ripped through him. When he opened his eyes, tears hovered within hers. “Don’t you dare cry,” he growled through clenched teeth. “Don’t you dare give him that satisfaction.”

She nodded bravely, and he could see her blinking back her tears. Dear God, but he couldn’t have asked for a finer wife.

“You have to get away from here,” she said in a low voice as the whip tore into him. “One of my brothers paid him to kill you.”

“Figured it was something like that. That’s why … tried to force him to take you to town.” He lowered his trembling fingers to her soft cheek. “Keep the promise you made to me. my land …”

The pain intensified, drowning out his thoughts, his muscles quivering as the onslaught continued. He buried his face against her neck, her warmth, her sweet fragrance. He wanted to tell her something else, something important, but it hovered at the edge of the agony.

“I’m sorry,” slipped past his lips before the blackness engulfed him.

With the sputtering flame from the stub of a candle casting a fluttering glow over Dallas’s back, Cordelia tried to asses the damage.

She had removed what remained of his shirt, the blood-soaked strips that could not even serve as a bandage. Crimson rivulets of torn flesh and seeping blood criss-crossed his broad back. His trousers had grown black and stiff as the blood had flowed more freely with each strike of the lash.

Although unconscious, he groaned and clenched his fists. Her trembling fingers hovered over his tortured flesh. She didn’t know how to ease his pain, how to stop infection from settling in, although infection was the least of her worries. They intended to kill him, and with a sickening dread, she knew they intended for his death to be a slow, agonizing affair.

“Why did you come?” she whispered hoarsely as she brushed the black hair from his furrowed brow.

She stiffened as she heard a key go into the lock of the shed’s door. It opened and Cooper burst into the room. “He awake yet?”

Cordelia moved so her body partially covered the sight of Dallas’s back. “No.”

Cooper lumbered across the room and squatted beside Dallas. He grabbed his hair and jerked his head up. Dallas moaned, his eyes opening to narrow slits.

“Who has the money?” Cooper demanded.

“Go to hell.”

Cooper slammed Dallas’s head against the dirt floor. “I’m gonna take her into town tomorrow. If I don’t come back with the money, you’re gonna die a slow death. I spent time with the Indians, and I know how to keep a dead man screaming for days.”

He shoved himself to his feet.

“And if the money’s there,” Cordelia said, hating the plea she heard in her voice, “you’ll let him go.”

Cooper sneered at her. “If I get the money, then I’ll kill him quick. Like I said before, your brother paid me to kill him. I ain’t got no choice in the matter except to decide if he dies fast or slow. Now that decision is in his hands.”

He left the shack, slamming the door into place. Cordelia heard him lock the door. She leaned close to Dallas’s ear. “Does someone have the money?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“You’re safer … not knowing.” “I won’t leave you here.”

Grunting and groaning, he struggled to sit up, sweat beading his body, his muscles quivering with the strain. Roughly, he cradled her cheek and brought her face closer to his. “You will leave, dammit.”

“He’s going to kill you,” she whispered brokenly.

“Maybe.” He dropped his hand to the dirt. “Look, I think we’re here.”

In the dim light of the candle’s glow, she could see his hand trembling as he drew an
X
in the dirt.

“Well on north end.” Another
X.

“The house.”
X.

“Town.” He lifted his pain-filled gaze to hers. “Once you get into the hotel, wait in our room with the door locked until a man comes for you. He’ll say, ‘You hold my heart.’ Draw him a map. Go with him to the sheriff. There’s a chance they could get back here … in time.”

She knew from the resignation in his eyes that he thought the chances were slim. His face was a mask of agony as she laid her palm against his cheek. “Lie down. You need to save your strength. I’ll see if I can stop some of this bleeding.”

His breathing shallow, he stretched out beside her. She imagined each intake of breath was agony as his back expanded. She had no way to cauterize the gaping slashes. She tore off a strip of her petticoat and pressed it against the worst of his wounds, trying to stanch the seepage of glistening blood. The air hissed through his teeth.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to do.” She glanced at his face. His eyes were closed, his jaw clenched. She touched his cheek, realizing with gratitude that he had lost consciousness.

She trailed her fingers along his sides where the whip had sometimes slithered. The cuts were shallow and had stopped bleeding. She wanted to curl beside him, wrap her arms around him, and take away his pain.

She hadn’t planned to fall asleep, wasn’t certain when she had, but she awoke to a scratching at the door. The candle had gutted and the small shed was wrapped in darkness.

The scratching intensified, then she heard a click, and the door squeaked open on dry hinges. A small silhouette stood in the doorway.

“Miz Dee?”

Cordelia rose to her knees. “Rawley?”

He took a small step forward. “We gotta go.”

“Where’s your father?”

“They’re all passed out, drunk as skunks, but we gotta hurry.”

Cordelia shook Dallas’s shoulder. He groaned. She slapped his cheek, alarmed to find it so warm. “Dallas?” She slapped him again. “Dallas, wake up.”

Moaning, he grabbed her hand before she could hit him again.

“Rawley unlocked the door. We need to go.” She slipped her hands underneath his arms. “Help me. Come on. Get up.”

Slowly, laboriously, she got him to his feet. He draped an arm over her shoulder, and she wrapped her arm below his waist, trying to give him some support.

“Horses?” he whispered.

“They never took off the saddles,” Rawley rasped into the darkness. “But we gotta hurry. They’ll whip my butt if they wake up.”

They staggered into the night Cordelia didn’t know how Dallas managed to pull himself into the saddle, but he did.

Then they were galloping, galloping toward freedom.

Cordelia kept the map Dallas had drawn emblazoned in her mind, her gaze focused on the North Star he had shown her one night. She knew they were heading in the right direction, away from their captors, but she didn’t know exactly where the house was, or the town, or Houston’s home. They could all easily be missed with the vast expanse of land stretching out before them.

She had no way to gauge the time as the steady pounding of the hooves echoed over the plains. Rawley kept glancing back over his shoulder. She didn’t blame him. She had little doubt his punishment would be severe if they were caught.

“Dee!”

She jerked her gaze around. Dallas was slouched over the saddle horn, his horse slowing to a trot. She brought her own horse to a stop and circled back as Satan staggered to a halt.

“Dallas?”

His breathing was shallow, his knuckles white as he gripped the saddle horn. “Tie me.” “What?”

“I’m close to passing out. If I fall, you won’t have the strength to get me back on this horse.” He struggled to loosen the rope from its place on his saddle. “I want you to tie me to the saddle so I can’t lose my seat.”

She glanced around. “Surely you can hold on a little while longer. We can’t be that far from home.”

“We have hours yet to ride.” A corner of his mouth tilted up. “That’s the problem with owning so much land. It takes forever to get home.”

Rawley had sidled his horse up against hers, his young face etched in worry.

Cordelia reached out, took his hand, and squeezed gently. “You keep a look out while I help Mr. Leigh. If you see riders coming, you ride fast and hard for town.”

He gave a quick nod and settled his anxious gaze in the direction from which they’d ridden. Cordelia dismounted, worked the rope free from the saddle, and glanced up at Dallas, the pain carved deeply into the creases of his face.

“What do I do?” she asked.

“Slip the rope beneath the legging of the saddle … wrap it around my leg … bring the rope up … loop it around my waist and the horn in a figure eight … take it to the other side, wrap it … secure my hands to the saddle horn … give me your word if something happens and I can’t ride … you’ll keep going.”

“No.”

“Dee—”

“No,” she insisted as she wound the rope around his leg and knotted it. “If you want me safe, then you’d best find a way to keep riding.”

“When did you … get so ornery?”

She knew it was unfair to ask so much of him when he was suffering as he was, but she’d be damned before she’d let him give up. She brought the rope up to his waist, careful not to let the rough hemp touch his bare back.

When she had finished following his instructions, she mounted Lemon Drop and took Satan’s reins. “Am I going in the right direction?”

He gazed at the stars before looking out over the land. “Head south … east.”

She kicked her horse into a lope, ignoring her husband’s strangled groans, hoping that home lay just beyond dawn.

Cameron jerked awake, his neck stiff, his arm numb from using it as his pillow. His gaze darted around the lobby of The Grand Hotel.

It was empty, silent. Even the low fire that had been burning within the hearth had died quietly. Through the windows, he could see the darkness of night. It had been night when last he’d looked.

When was that?

He thrust himself to his feet and shoved his hand into his pocket, pulling out his watch. Two-thirty.

Dallas would kill him if he’d been sleeping …

He rushed across the lobby and pounded the little bell on the registration desk.

Bleary-eyed, Susan Redd peered out from the room behind the desk. “What do you need?”

“Has Mrs. Leigh registered?” he asked, unable to keep the alarm out of his voice.

Susan sighed and shook her head. “No, but she has
a
key to one of the rooms upstairs. She could have come in without me knowing.”

“What room?”

“Three-oh-one.”

“Thanks.” Cameron dashed up the stairs and pounded on the door. “Dee?”

With an unexpected burst of panic, he kicked in the door. The room was empty.

Dread filled him. She should have been here by now. Christ, why had Dallas laid this burden on his shoulders? Should he wait ‥ or should he leave?

He took a coin from his pocket and tossed it into the air. Heads he’d leave.

It landed with a thump on the floor.

Heads it was.

The fiery flames licked at Dallas’s back unmercifully. He searched for the peaceful cocoon of oblivion, but it hovered beyond reach as the pain shot through his back and his whole body jerked in rebellion. “Damn!”

“Sorry, son, but I have to get these wounds cleaned.” Dr. Freeman.

Dallas forced his eyes open, only then realizing that he was lying in a bed, his hands fisted into the mattress.

“Dee?”

“I’m here,” she said softly as she laid her palm over his hand.

He wanted to turn his hand and intertwine his fingers with hers, but he was afraid he’d crush her bones. He didn’t seem to have any control over his body as it flinched with Dr. Freeman’s not-so-gentle ministrations.

“Home?”

She placed her cool fingers against his fevered brow. “Yes, we’re home. When I didn’t show up at the hotel, Cameron came here and told Austin what had happened. Austin had the men out searching for us. Our paths crossed near dawn.” She brushed his hair up off

his brow. “Why did you trust Cameron with the money?”

“The day you married me … he was the only one who cared about you … enough to threaten me. What about Cooper?”

“Austin went to town to get the sheriff so they can go arrest them. I drew them a map like the one you drew for me.”

“Good. Your … other brothers?”

When Cameron had heard the whole story, he’d paled considerably. She’d told him to check into a room at the hotel until the matter was resolved. She knew he didn’t have the stomach for the harsh conflict about to erupt. “I’ll take care of them. I’ll take care of everything. You just need to get well.”

“Put out the fire.”

She brushed her lips along his ear. “There is no fire. You have a fever and your back … your back is a mess.”

He thought he felt rain falling along his cheek, soft gentle rain. Then he thought nothing at all as the pain carried him under to the darkest recesses of hell.

Cordelia carefully wiped her tears from Dallas’s face, then swiped them from her own. “Is he going to live?”

“Hell, if I know,” Dr. Freeman answered, the frustration evident in his voice. “He’s lost a lot of blood, he’s fighting infection, and there’s not a whole hell of a lot left for me to sew up.” He turned his wizened gaze her way. “But then he’s a fighter. Always has been so I reckon he’ll fight this, too.”