Maureen McKade (27 page)

She forced a smile for Johnny’s sake. “I guess that
means we’d better go let him join his cousins.”

Leaving a disgruntled Toby locked in the barn, they went to the other building where the injured animals were kept.

“Can you lift one end of the cage?” Kit asked.

“I’m almost six years old,” came his indignant reply.

A genuine grin claimed her lips. “That’s right. Three more weeks and you’ll be all grown up.”

“Almost,” Johnny amended solemnly.

She and Johnny carried Jasper’s cage to the edge of the woods.

“Would you like to let him go?” she asked.

Johnny kicked at the damp soil, and shook his head. “Naw.”

Concern brought a frown to her face. Normally, he’d have been eager to do a grown-up job. “Are you sure?”

“You can do it.”

She pressed her lips together. Something was bothering him. He was always resistant to releasing one of his “pets,” but his reluctance seemed rooted in something more this time.

She stepped behind the cage, then bent over the top of it to undo the latch. She swung the door open and stepped back beside Johnny.

Sliding her hands in her pockets, she watched the raccoon take its first step toward freedom. Sniffing the ground, then the air, Jasper glanced back at her and Johnny. With a blink of his masked eyes, Jasper ambled off into the brush.

“Do you think he’ll come back?” Johnny asked with a husky voice.

“I don’t think so, sweetheart. He has a life out there in the wilds.”

Kit noticed her son had turned his attention to the road leading to the ranch. Abruptly realizing what worried him, she clenched her jaw. She’d been so absorbed in
self-pity, she’d failed to see how Jake’s departure had affected Johnny. “Don’t worry, your father will come back.”

“He’s been gone two whole days.”

Her heart tightened at the anguish in his words. As hurt as she was by Jake’s underhanded possession of the ranch, she, too, wanted him back safe and sound. She knelt down in front of Johnny. “This is his home, sweetheart. Besides, he loves you. He would never leave you.”

“I miss him.” Her son’s plaintive tone shafted an arrow of pain through Kit’s chest.

“So do I.” The truth slipped past her defenses. It didn’t matter what he’d done, she loved him. When he returned, she’d listen to his explanation and give him a chance to prove his parting words.

“Let’s go back to the house. It’s time to get supper on,” Kit said, pushing to her feet.

Vertigo assailed her for a moment, and she placed a hand to her temple. She needed a good night’s sleep.

After they put away the empty cage, Johnny let Toby out, and she left the two of them romping around the yard. Kit retrieved a basket of potatoes from the root cellar and sat on the porch to clean them for supper.

While her hands were busy, her mind strayed to Jake. This time she didn’t fight the image of his endearing smile or twinkling eyes. She wouldn’t have been so stubborn, but her pride had been wounded. In the space of less than an hour, she’d professed her love and learned of his deception. Although at first she’d felt angry at his betrayal, now guilt had set in. She’d been a hypocrite. She’d railed at Jake for his silent lie, yet she still carried the secret of T. K. Thorne.

Kit looked around at the leafing trees and the greening grass as if a cloud had lifted. For the first time since
Jake had left, she admitted to herself that she missed him with a soul-yearning intensity.

A horse and rider came into view on the road, and Kit’s heart did a somersault.

The sorrel animal the person rode dashed her hopes that it was Jake returning home. Shading her eyes against the setting sun, she watched the visitor approach. As he came into the yard, she recognized the pinstriped suit and black bowler perched on his head. David Preston.

He was the last person she wanted to see. Kit stood and positioned herself at the top of the porch stairs. Preston slid from the saddle and wrapped the leather reins around the hitching post. Fastidiously brushing the dust from his expensive jacket, he walked toward her.

“Good afternoon, my dear Kit,” he greeted in a snake oil salesman’s voice.

She nodded, keeping her revulsion hidden. “What brings you out here, David?”

“I heard Cordell was out of town.”

A shiver shimmied down her spine, and she fought the urge to wrap her arms around her waist. “So?”

Impatience flickered across his aquiline face. “So I thought I’d come out and check on you.”

“No need to worry about me. I’ve got Charlie and Ethan.”

He scowled. “Someone needs to be protecting you from them.”

Kit’s temper simmered. “I trust them with my life. And Johnny’s.”

“I heard that the brat is Cordell’s. Is that true?”

She boiled at his description of Johnny. “Yes.”

He grimaced with distaste. “So you and Cordell were more than old friends. And here I thought the nasty rumors about you were nothing more than jealous prattle.”

Not bothering to correct his assumption, she laughed.
“The thing that you can’t believe is that I chose him over you.”

He mounted the stairs, his menacing steps forcing her to retreat a few feet. “I would’ve given you respectability, a life where you didn’t have to work like a common ranch hand.”

She shook her head, the first shiver of fear crawling down her spine. “You’ve never understood me, David. I chose this ranch, and I chose Charlie and Ethan to work for me. I never cared about respectability.”

His blue eyes seemed lit from within by a dangerous gleam. His searing gaze slid across her chest and down her legs, then back to her face.

“I’ve been more than patient with you, Kit. You owe me for that.”

Kit reminded herself that he had been her friend. He wouldn’t hurt her. “I don’t owe you anything, David. We were friends. Anything more was your imagination.”

He advanced with the stealth of a predatory beast. She struggled to remain in place and not give in to the urge to withdraw from his intimidation.

“You would’ve been mine if Cordell’s horse hadn’t stumbled when I pulled the trigger.” He ground out the words between clenched teeth.

The impact of his statement staggered her. She stared at him, mouth agape. “
You
shot Jake?”

“I did it for you, Kit. I knew you would fall for his shallow charms if I didn’t save you. For five years I’ve waited for you.” His face twisted into an ugly bitter mask. “Then Cordell shows up, and you can’t wait to crawl under him again and spread your legs.”

Preston grabbed her unexpectedly, his fetid breath washing across her, and Kit fought a wave of nausea. Stumbling back, she struggled to free herself from his iron grasp. His fingertips bit into her arms as he shoved
her across the porch, pinning her against the door.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Kit demanded, her knees quaking.

“Taking what should’ve been mine.” He crushed her lips beneath his. A scream crawled up Kit’s throat, but was blocked by Preston’s cruel ravishment. She tried to wriggle out of his clutches but was defeated by the unexpected hard muscle camouflaged beneath his fashionable clothing.

She kicked at his shins and was rewarded with a grunt of pain. He ended the violent kiss, and Kit gasped for air. The heavy odors of printers ink and damp wool threatened to suffocate her.

“We’re going to go in to the house and you’re going to give me what you gave Cordell.”

“Go to hell,” she spat.

“If you don’t, that boy of yours and Cordell’s will have an untimely accident. If I can get the drop on the great Jake Cordell, can you imagine how easy it would be for me to kill your bastard?”

Cold terror iced her heart and she ceased struggling, although her muscles remained taut. “No! You wouldn’t!”

“That’ll be up to you, my sweet.” Preston chained her wrists in one hand. “Let’s go inside where we can be more comfortable.”

Kit’s frantic gaze searched the corrals for any sign of her hired men. She didn’t see them, and hysteria threatened to undo her fragile thread of control.

“They won’t be coming to your rescue. You see, I stopped by to let them know I was going to visit my good friend Kit,” Preston said, guessing her thoughts.

Her eyes flashed to his smug smile. Below the fine-spun veneer of civilization lay a perverted sense of propriety. She had to remain calm, and pray she’d be able to escape before he could …

Preston shoved her into the house, wrenching her right arm behind her painfully. Her gaze darted about in search of a weapon. Helpless, she watched him remove his black bowler and hang it on a wall peg as if he were a welcome visitor. The stench of his imported hair oil struck her nostrils, and she gagged.

He propelled her toward the stairs. She stumbled, her hip slamming against the baluster. Preston bent her arm behind her back again. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she staggered up the steps.

At the top, he paused. “Which one’s yours?”

How dare he violate the sanctuary of her home! She smiled in defiance. “Guess.”

A muscle twitched in his jaw. “Your bastard feeds his caged animals between three and four every day except Sunday.”

Her skin blossomed with goosebumps. “You’ve been watching us?”

“I watch over what’s mine.”

His warped possessiveness pierced her resistance. “The end of the hall.”

Preston’s upper lip curled in disgust. “As much as I abhor the thought of you and
him
together, I find taking you in the same bed fitting.”

Kit pressed a fist to her mouth. He shoved her, and she stumbled down the hall. Inside the bedroom, she closed her eyes against the memories of her and Jake making love.

Preston chuckled, a low, spine-chilling sound. “I’m going to enjoy this.”

His laughter brought a resurgence of desperate anger. Jerking out of his grasp, Kit dashed around him, stretching her fingers toward the doorknob. He caught her by the wrist, sending a jolt of agony up her arm, and she cried out in pain. Seeing her hand mirror on the dresser, she grabbed it and swung blindly, striking him and shattering
the glass. Preston’s hissed curse told her she’d hurt him, but not enough to break his hold.

He flung her to the bed, and her head cracked against the headboard. Her eyes brimmed with involuntary tears.

Preston rubbed his ear. Blood coated his fingers. “That will cost you, Kit.”

She scrambled to a sitting position, her skull throbbing. “Not as much as it’ll cost you,” she threw back. “What do you think Jake will do to you when he finds out what you’ve done?”

Preston’s arrogance faltered a moment, then reasserted itself in his haughty expression. “I’ll tell him you were the one who instigated our meeting.”

“He won’t believe you.”

“I think he will.” He leaned close to her, and she turned her face away from the sickening odor of his breath. “The town gossip will only support my claim.” He dragged his forefinger down her cheek. “Make this easy for both of us. Believe me, you’ll enjoy it.”

She scooted frantically off the mattress, keeping the bed between herself and Preston.

“You’re only making this harder on yourself,” he snarled.

He charged around the end of the bed, and Kit jumped across the mattress to the other side in a maniacal game of tag. She dashed to the door and yanked it open, but Preston shoved his palm against it, slamming it with a thunderous crack.

His arm snaked around her neck, and he flung her across the room as if she were a rag doll. Kit’s shin struck the solid maple dresser, and she sank to her knees.

Suddenly the door creaked open, freezing the action like a tintype.

Johnny entered, concerned curiosity in his expression. “Are you okay, Ma?” She nodded, and he straightened his shoulders, like a miniature Jake readying for a battle.
“What’re you doing up here, Mr. Preston?”

She had to get him away. “Go downstairs, Johnny.”

Her son held his ground, his attention on Preston. He frowned with unconcealed dislike. “My pa won’t like it that you were here.”

“Get out of here, kid.”

Johnny shook his head. “You hurt her.”

Preston grabbed the boy and shook him.

Fury surged through Kit, and she hurled her battered body against Preston. “Let him be!” She pounded his back with her fists and kicked him.

Preston swiveled his attention to Kit, releasing Johnny. He buried his fingers in her hair and yanked her head back, and she yelped in pain.

Johnny grabbed Preston’s leg and bit him above the knee.

Preston howled, trying to shake him off. He backhanded the boy, knocking him to the hall floor. Forgetting Kit, he stalked toward Johnny.

“
Run!
” Kit screamed.

The terror in his ma’s voice spurred Johnny into action. He scrambled to his feet as Preston’s figure loomed, and raced down the stairs, his hand skimming the railing. He hurried out to the porch, then paused, looking back. Mr. Preston hadn’t chased him.

His stomach spun with fear. He had to take care of his ma. His pa was counting on him.

Johnny sneaked back into the house, his heart pounding, tears running down his face. Entering the library, he opened a desk drawer, and his fingers closed around a wooden box. With trembling hands, Johnny withdrew it, lifted the lid, and took out the revolver. Sobbing, he loaded the weapon the way Ethan had taught him.

He hefted the Colt in both hands. He’d never fired it before, but he’d watched Ethan practice shooting. All he had to do was aim and squeeze the trigger.

Tiptoeing up the steps, he paused in front of the bedroom door. His hands shook from the weight of the gun. Sweat mixed with tears rolled down his cheeks. Then his mother’s muffled scream shattered his hesitation. He threw open the door and lifted the revolver, using every ounce of his strength and resolve.

He spied his mother lying on the bed, Mr. Preston sitting on top of her. Her shirt was torn, and she was crying.

“Stop it!” Johnny screamed.

Preston glanced at him over his shoulder and laughed. “Put the gun away, kid. You won’t shoot me.”

His ma tried to get away from Preston, and the man lifted a hand to her.

Gritting his teeth, Johnny aimed the gun at Mr. Preston’s back and squeezed the trigger.