Trail of Lust (15 page)

Steal his love from him.

Staring down at her beautiful face, he knew he was doing right. She might not believe it now or even understand his need to prevent a repeat of what had happened with Bella, but she had to trust him.

"Sweetheart, give me two more nights. It's all I ask."

She blinked, her mouth contorting as she forced her words past her trembling lips. “Graham, I hate to be away from you."

"I know. But I need a couple more days to make sure everything is all right."

She searched his gaze. “I understand what drives you, but I can't wait forever."

"Can you wait two days?” he pressed her.

A long minute passed while the clouds scudded past the moon and the breeze ruffled the grasses around him. Wisps of hair danced at her temples.

Realistically, he knew if Wabash was coming after him, it might take more than two days for the man to reach him. He imagined many more soldiers he'd wronged—those who had lost limbs from his bullets, men he'd forced to march when they'd only wanted to desert. At that moment, it seemed completely possible that they'd seek revenge too.

But as he gazed upon his wife's face, he realized he could ask her to wait no longer. He'd bring her and her pa to the Hollis ranch if need be, surround them by men who could protect them.

"You'd better walk me home, Graham."

Pain clawed at him. As he dressed and led her back through the fields to the small ranch, he told himself it was for her own good. When he stopped her by the outbuilding and kissed her, her mouth still sweet though she felt distanced from him.

"Two nights, baby. I swear."

She nodded and went on tiptoe to brush her lips over his before heading toward the house. The moonlight streaked down and caressed the top of her head and the outline of her feminine body. Graham's heart pulsated heavily. Joy at discovering he loved her mixed with a deep-seated anger that he couldn't get away from his past long enough to enjoy his happiness. Wabash would hunt Kathleen to get back at Graham. And would Bella forever haunt him?

A figure darted from the side of the house. Before Graham could register what he was seeing, the bulky figure intercepted Kathleen and dragged her away from the door.

No!
The word rang within the depths of Graham's soul as he lunged forward. In a flash, he was running, muscles humming, fear injecting his system.

Kathleen's low voice reached him, her voice tight with fury, but Graham couldn't make out the words. He rounded the corner of the house. The two figures loomed into sight—Kathleen's familiar little form and a larger one hovering over her.

His hands on her. Smacking her across the face, using his fist in her soft belly so she crumpled in half.

Graham was on him in a flash, hands outstretched to wrap around the man's throat. He shoved the bastard against the wall of the house, lifting the man he now recognized as the hired hand off his feet. Kathleen's cry further ignited Graham's fury.

"Don't you ever put a hand on her again!"

"She ain't gonna have your baby if I can help it."

Out of the corner of Graham's eye, he glimpsed Kathleen gripping her midsection, harsh rasps bursting from her.

Graham shook Jenkins, and his boot heels thumped off the wall. Through the little gap Graham left between his hands and Jenkins's neck, the hired man managed to speak.

"You're not...getting her, Hollis. If I have...to take you out...go after your family...I will."

Graham glared right into Jenkins's evil eyes and tightened his hold around his greasy throat. “No one threatens a Hollis and lives."

Jenkins jerked, his held body stiff and straining. He gargled a reply, arms dangling limply as Graham exerted more pressure on his sinewy throat.

A primal instinct to protect himself and his family stole Graham's sense. “Kathleen, go inside,” he said through a clenched jaw.

Images of Wabash and the dozens—hell, hundreds—of soldiers Graham had wronged flitted behind his red-tinted vision. He lifted Jenkins higher on the wall. His face had darkened to purple. “You will never touch my woman or threaten my family again, you scum."

Jenkins pissed himself, and his pulse stopped its erratic throb beneath Graham's fingers.

Fuck!

Breathing hard, Graham lowered the body to the ground, then stepped back and wiped his hands on his pants. The burn of disgust that always accompanied a killing settled in his gut. But justice had been served. This man would never lay a hand on Kathleen again, let alone the Hollises.

But Graham couldn't just leave the body for Kathleen and her sick father to deal with. Out here, there was no authority. Folks took care of business, and that was exactly what Graham had to do, no matter how queasy it made him.

With a shaky sigh, Graham went about gathering up the body. He threw it over his shoulder and headed up the incline, grabbing a shovel that was leaning against the barn on his way.

Kathleen paced wildly within the confines of her room. Her skirts churned around her legs, and she didn't even try to stop her feet from slapping the floor. There was no use trying to keep her father in the dark.

She couldn't pretend. Couldn't pretend she hadn't stolen away, married a man, and spent several nights beneath him truly as his wife.

Couldn't pretend that same husband hadn't choked the life out of Jenkins.

After he'd ordered her inside, she had no desire to blatantly go against his wishes. She'd spent the remaining hours before dawn pacing.

Jenkins had vanished from the farm and had failed to come in for breakfast. What else could have happened?

Following breakfast, Kathleen had gone outside and checked the place where she and Graham had encountered Jenkins last night. She'd seen the big boot prints in the dust. One set of boot prints. Indicating Graham had carried the man somewhere.

She threaded her fingers through her hair and tugged ruthlessly, hoping the sting would control her panic. This wouldn't end well.

Her father's familiar rap on the door brought her up short. Her skirts continued their momentum, swinging forward and then rustling into place. Graham's scent was all over her.

And he'd killed a man for her.

"Oh God...” She scrubbed her face with her hands.

Again, her father knocked. “Are you all right, Kathleen?"

She gulped back the emotion that thickened her throat. “I'm fine."

"You seem...restless, honey."

I'm more than that. My chest feels like it's been loaded with twenty-five pounds of dynamite.

She crossed to the door and opened it so her father could see she was all right. At least she hoped she looked all right.

He stood there, appearing a little put out. When he set eyes on her, he rearranged his features. His clothes were rumpled and dusty from doing all the barn work himself—work Jenkins should be doing, especially since her father's health hadn't been fully restored.

But Jenkins was most likely miles away, run off by Graham...or six feet under.

A shiver trickled down her spine.

"You look flustered, Kathleen."

"I'm a bit out of sorts,” she admitted.

"Why don't you get out of the house and take a nice ride around the property?” It wasn't prudent for ladies to ride unaccompanied in most parts, but their land was out of the way of the Indian trails, and no wagons came this way since the town had sprung up.

Still, she didn't feel like riding. She wanted Graham—

That was it. If she took the horse, she could slip away and go to him. The Hollis ranch wasn't that far. She could be there and back by suppertime. Maybe Graham would come with her. Hopefully he'd ease her fears about what had happened to Jenkins.

"I'll do that, Pa, if you agree to rest this afternoon. You've worked entirely too hard this morn."

"That damned hired hand is nowhere to be found.” He shook his head sadly.

She almost swallowed her tongue. “Your idea is a good one, Pa. I'll saddle up my mare now."

Within minutes, she was in the saddle and setting her heels into the horse's thick sides, heading toward the Hollis ranch. To Graham.

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Graham heaved a bale of hay over the edge of the loft. It struck the floor twenty feet below, and dust roiled up in a cloud, motes dancing wildly in the blinding sunlight. He was reaching for another bale when he heard a shout.

Then another.

A figure ran through the open barn door and skidded to a stop. Fear bloomed in Graham's belly, and his bowels turned to water. He took two steps and flipped his leg onto the ladder leading from the loft, descended ten rungs, then skipped the rest and hit the floor with a thump.

"What's wrong, Nolan?"

"There's a posse riding. Right for us!"

Clay burst into the barn. Xander, James, and Xander's brothers followed. The four men went everywhere together, and Drew and Adam weren't far behind. They'd been over to butcher a couple of hogs to divide evenly among the family.

Graham strode out into the daylight and scoured the land for signs of riders. All the men gathered and watched as the dust stirred by many horse hooves boiled toward them.

"What the hell is going on? I thought Xander's and James's troubles with the railroad were over!” Clay said.

"It
is
over,” Xander said in a hard tone. “It must be something else."

"Well, what, for Chrissakes? Can't you asses keep out of trouble for a minute?” Adam accused with a glare all around.

"They'd be coming for me.” Graham kept his voice even. That feeling of having eaten something rotten settled in his gut again, just as it had after he'd killed Jenkins. When he'd finished shoveling the last scoop of dirt over the man's body high on the hill above the Allen ranch, he'd known it wasn't likely to be over. Even out here in the wilds of Texas, men didn't get away with killing.

Clay swung toward him. “You? Who'd you kill?"

Graham clenched his fists at his sides. Fuck, he hadn't meant to drag his family into this. “A Jenkins man—a workhand at the Allen place."

"Jesus! Why?” Nolan interjected.

"For putting his hands on Kathleen."

"Kathleen?” Xander asked.

"His wife,” Clay added.

"Wife?” Nolan took one menacing step toward Graham. “You'd better start fucking talkin'."

Xander and James moved in from the outer ring of the group to hear Graham's hastily spoken words. There wasn't time to tell them about all of it—how he'd been protecting Kathleen from danger while a danger lurked right under her nose and he hadn't even seen it. For now she was safe. At least until Wabash showed his evil face.

Graham had spent most of the morning dwelling on the killing. In the end, he was relieved that Jenkins couldn't lay another hand on her. But it would mean the Allens were shorthanded on their ranch. So he'd planned to hurry through his chores here, then ride out and put in a day's work on the Allen place, making up for Jenkins's loss.

"Better get your guns ready, boys,” Xander drawled as the posse approached. Thirty riders were cresting the rise. Where the Hollis lands were situated, no one could sneak up on them.

Nolan took off at a dead run for the house while Adam swung into the saddle. “I'll fetch the rest.” Without further explanation, everyone knew he meant the rest of the males in the family. All those who could reasonably take out a band of thirty riders without breaking a sweat.

But Graham couldn't let them do that.

"If you killed a man, who the hell saw you, Graham?” Drew asked.

"No one. I sent Kathleen inside, and her father was asleep."

"Well, someone sure as fuck saw! Dead men don't talk!” Drew barked, his ire flaming in his dark eyes. He had a quick temper.

"Wait—a Jenkins, you say?” James spoke up. He hung close to Xander. As mutual lovers of Annabelle, they were rarely apart.

"That's right.” Graham braced himself for what was to come—being taken prisoner by the posse, strung up from the nearest tree. He'd let that happen before he allowed his family to get into more trouble. With any hope, they'd take care of Kathleen and her pa.

Pain stabbed deep in his chest, but he squelched it like a fragile flower beneath his boot heel before he could change his mind from this course of action. There was no other way. Surrender, or what? Let his family members take out thirty men? That might bring a whole damn army down on them. The womenfolk would be compromised. Unless they could make it look as if Indians ambushed them.

No, his way was best.

"Jesus, bro, don't you realize there are five Jenkins brothers? That means four probably know their brother's dead.” Clay thwacked his thigh with a fist, loosing dust.

"How?” Drew asked.

"Maybe they linger near the Allen ranch since their brother works there. Or maybe another one of them is hired on and you don't know it."

"Doesn't matter,” Graham said as the riders bore down on them like black devils, their drover coats flapping, rifles glinting in the morning sun. “They're going to take me, and you're not going to put up a fight."

Nolan and their father burst from the house, running full tilt, arms loaded with weapons and guns strapped to their belts. His pa met Graham's gaze, his glare level and letting Graham know who was in charge now.

"Looks like we got a fight on our hands, boys."

"Dam rode for help,” Drew spoke up, using his brother's nickname.

Graham's father, Robert, gave a hard nod. “We'll need it."

"No, we won't.” Graham stepped to the front of the group, refusing to take arms. “Let them take me for my crime. I don't want to get you involved."

"Like hell!” Clay's passionate baritone roused brotherly feelings in Graham. He'd let his younger brother into his confidence about Kathleen. He didn't expect him to stand by him on so many levels.

Then again, they were Hollises. That was what they did.

From behind, hooves thundered—Adam had arrived with the rest of the men. All Graham's cousins and uncles would be with him, prepared to charge the posse and defend one of their own.

Graham looked right at his father. “Let me do this. I killed the man; I deserve to take the punishment—not all of you."