West of Paradise (8 page)

The boy’s smiling face clouded over and he gave her a sharp slap across the face, immediately silencing her. Her mouth dropped open in shock, but he gave her no time to think or talk, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her along after the man.

He took the two horses as well, leading them all toward the smithy’s shed where the man waited, already mounted on an old mare who bared her teeth at their approach.

“Where’s the saddle and bridle?” he asked her.

“Inside the saloon,” Katherine said answered dully.

“You got anything here?” he asked Katherine.

Katherine stared at him, hating him more than she ever imagined hating Jack. She wanted to spit in his face but his dark eyes grew darker and his lip curled.

“Don’t mess with me, Alanna,” he said. “Tell me now or I’ll beat it out of you.”

“In the kitchen,” she answered coldly.

“Bring it all, Tommy,” he ordered.

“Sure, Will.”

And that was when Katherine became truly afraid.

Chapter Nine
Right Church, Wrong Pew

J
ack waited until the hoof beats had faded away before opening his eyes. He was alive, he told himself, hardly able to believe it. A second thought rushed in on top of the first, pushing it rudely aside.

This was the second time she hadn’t killed him.

She was not Alanna. But how? How in God’s name could there be two women who looked so alike? Were they related but unknown to one another?

He shook his head, pushing the questions aside. It was enough to know she’d been telling the truth. And her name probably
was
Katherine. But now he had to focus his attention on the hotel. He had to get inside and stop the bleeding, he had to clean the wound, he had to . . . the world spun madly, making him dizzy and sick.

He stopped, breathing in deeply until the feeling passed. Then he began to move toward the hotel, inch by painful inch, using his hands to pull himself through the mud. His leg screamed in agony, and he clamped his teeth together. Sweat dripped down into his eyes, rolling down the sides of his face.

He was in the saloon now, only a dozen yards or so to go. He stopped once more as the room began to swim. He took a series of deep breaths. Oxygen, he needed oxygen. He had to breath. He couldn’t pass out, not yet.

Jack began to crawl again, dragging his wounded leg behind him and leaving a trail of red mud along the hotel floor. By the time he reached the kitchen his entire body was soaked with sweat, his jeans wet with blood. He fumbled for the canteen and tipped it to his mouth, drinking sparingly. Then he reached up to the table and found the remains of Katherine’s petticoat. He tore a strip off and tied it around his leg, gritting his teeth together as he pulled it tight.

The room began to fade but he fought against it, breathing deep, reminding himself that now was not the time to pass out. He clamped his jaw and reached for the knife at his belt, intending to cut away his jeans and have a look at the wound. But the darkness closed in and swallowed him whole.

❧

The wind woke him, a warm breeze that came in across his face. The pain was there, hammering away at his leg like a hot drill. He almost wished to pass out again. But no, not yet.

As gently as he could he released the tourniquet, feeling the blood rush down into his calf. He counted out loud through gritted teeth, waiting until the pins and needles had passed and there was only the stabbing pain of the gunshot. He found the knife where he’d dropped it and cut his jeans away from the wound, finding the heavy material stuck. He debated for a while whether to leave it that way or try to clean the wound out.

He reached out for the canteen and drank, slowly working his pants away from his skin until at last the wound was revealed. It was nasty, red and swollen and raw where the bullet tore in. But it wasn’t gushing blood anymore, and that was a good thing.

He found his flask of whiskey, knowing what he needed to do. He took a single deep breath, set his teeth together and poured, dumping the whiskey on the wound and clenching his fist while every curse he’d ever learned came tumbling out of his mouth in quick succession.

“God-damn-mother-whoreson. . .” And then Jack was gone again, drifting, dreaming . . .

❧

. . . He’s back in Brazil, deep in the jungle. It’s raining and so hot the whole place is steaming. The trees are shadows and smoke, the foliage blurred by mist, and everything runs together like paint on wet paper. He can hear the rain, a hard fast drumming as each raindrop hits something: a leaf, the bark on the trees, branches.

Somewhere ahead is the sound of intermittent gunfire, and he realizes he’s become separated from his squad. He hefts his pack over his shoulder and starts running toward the sound, through the trees and tall ferns and saw grass that cuts at his hands. The gunfire stops abruptly and he runs faster, the trees whipping by in a blur of green, the rain slashing at him.

Suddenly everything is quiet, hushed but for the rain dripping off the trees.

He’s in a clearing now, round thatched huts forming a circle around a central garden dead and blackened from fire. As he draws closer he can see the bodies, faces bloodied and wet from the rain, puddles of blood, death everywhere he looks. This is his squad. There’s Jason Falco and Richie Eldredge. Jonas Hunt is a few meters away, lying face down in the mud but Jack knows him for the tattoos that cover his hands. Next to him is their SatCom girl, Evie Stipe, and Morrison, sitting propped up against one of the huts.

For a second
Jack thinks Morrison might be alive until he sees the odd angle of his head and the gash that has nearly separated his neck from his body. The remaining bodies belong to the residents, old men and women, mothers who had tried to shield their children, young warriors with laser spears still clutched in their hands.

He drops his medpack to ground. There is no saving any of these people. They are dead; they are all dead.

A whisper beckons then, soft as the wind, and at first he thinks it’s the wind until he hears it again, calling, saying his name. He turns until he sees her standing in the darkened doorway of one of the huts. She’s maybe thirteen, or fourteen, and she’s reaching out to him, saying something in her own language. He can’t understand the words but he can see the expression on her face; she’s afraid.

As he steps toward her she changes, looking less like a girl he knew and more like Alanna until finally mutating into someone else, someone he doesn’t know. But in the dream he does know her and he knows she loves him more than anything and is trying desperately to tell him something important.

He takes another step closer and a quick rat-a-tat-tat breaks through the quiet even as she calls out to him, telling him to run.

But it’s too late. He’s already falling.

Chapter Ten
East

K
atherine stared straight ahead, not daring to look at Will Cushing and not wanting to look at the stupid boy who continued to ogle her. He still had an idiot smile on his face, and a part of her wanted to slap it right off. As for Will, she could tell he was angry, maybe a lot more than angry. And she knew it all had to do with Alanna McLeod.

Beside her, Will rode with his face fixed in fury, dark eyes staring straight ahead over the plains. A shiver ran down her spine. Jack had hated her, but it had been a controlled hate. The rage she saw in Will Cushing’s eyes was something deeper and more personal. Jack may have wanted her dead but she suspected Will wished something far worse than death on her. She was afraid to imagine what that might be.

How impossible this is
, she thought, almost laughing at the absurdity of it. She had gone to Cristobel in the hopes of curing her restlessness, to try and figure out what was wrong with her. The whole idea of traveling into the past seemed an answer of sorts, or at least, an adventure. But instead, here she was, stuck in 1881, hot, sweaty, miserable, sick to her stomach, and riding across the plains in the hands of an outlaw. Not what she’d had in mind.

She told herself to think, to use her brain, certain she was ten times smarter than Will Cushing or that stupid boy. But she was too tired to think. She didn’t want to play anymore. She wanted to go home.

“Say there, Miss Alanna, that sure is a pretty blouse you got on.”

Katherine gave him a withering glance, dismissing him with a flick of her eyes.

“Well, hells bells, you don’t have to be rude.”

“No, I don’t,” Katherine replied sweetly, “but sometimes I enjoy it.”

“I oughta slap you again.”

“I don’t think that would be wise. I’ve made bigger boys than you cry.”

Tommy swallowed and kicked his horse ahead, tossing the lead rope to Will. “Here,” he said sourly, “you take her.”

Will snickered and caught the rope, pulling Katherine’s mount close and grinning at Katherine. “Same old Alanna,” he said, “You always were quick with that tongue of yours.”

Katherine didn’t answer, not daring to.

“What’s the matter? Can’t think of anything to say to me? After all this time?”

Words froze on her lips as his tone changed from sarcastic to menacing. She looked away, trembling under his dark gaze and wondering if hanging might be preferable to whatever Will had in store for her.

“That’s right, you jus’ keep quiet. It’s easy puttin’ fear into boys that don’t know any better. But I know you, only too well. An’ I ain’t afraid of you, hell I don’t even like you anymore.” He spat into the ground as if to prove his point.

“But you did once, didn’t you,” Katherine asked, her voice shaking.

“Shut up. I don’t want to hear you talk.”

Katherine snapped her mouth shut. Good lord, what had the woman done to make so many people hate her?

❧

It was close to dark when Will called a halt, leading them off to the side of the road. Not that there was much difference. The few trees Katherine could see appeared skeletal in the dying light, as if the heat had burnt them up. The road was lost in the shadows until the moon rose up, pale and silvery, casting everything in black and white. A few stars broke out over the sky, pricking the darkness with their glimmering light.

Katherine had long since ceased to think of anything but her need to urinate. She had been uncomfortable for hours now and each time they had come up over a rise she had strained to see anything that might resemble civilization. But each time she had been greeted with nothing more than the road twisting out over the plains and no sign whatsoever of anything that might be considered “facilities.”

She had meant to say something half a dozen times but Will’s face made her swallow her words. God only knew how he would react. Now, as she slipped down from Jack’s horse, she knew she had to say something. She turned to face Will who was rummaging about in his saddlebags. She cleared her throat and he glanced at her, the dark mercifully hiding his features.

“I need to use an outhouse,” she said.

“Oh, yeah? You see one ’round here?”

“No, but—”

Will cut her off, barking at the boy, “Tommy, take the lady for a walk.”

Tommy tied his horse to a drooping sapling and came to take her arm. Katherine shrugged him off angrily. “Keep your hands off me!” she hissed.

Tommy grabbed her again and she swung at him, making fists of her hands, catching him across the bridge of his nose. “You stupid little—”

Her words were cut off as Will yanked her away with one hand and pushed Tommy away with the other. “Knock it off, both of you,” he growled. “I ain’t got time to play games. You, Tommy, see to them horses, and you, you come with me.”

He led her away from the horses toward a dark line of brush, his fingers digging into the flesh of her upper arm.

“If you don’t keep your peace I’m gonna let the boy have at you. Now do what you gotta do.” He released her and crossed his arms over his chest.

“I’m not doing anything with you standing there!” Katherine balked.

“Oh yeah? Then piss yourself.”

He reached for her, but she stepped away quick.

“All right!” she said, knowing in about two seconds she would do exactly that. Katherine squatted, her face burning with embarrassment. He was worse than Jack, she decided, who had at least allowed her to urinate in privacy.

“I guess you did have to go,” Will said when she had finished.

“Shut up,” she snapped, forgetting.

Will whirled on her, taking her by the shoulders and shaking her until her teeth rattled. “Don’t you tell me to shut up, Alanna. You ain’t givin’ the orders anymore!”

“Well, I hate to tell you this, but I am not your precious Alanna,” Katherine ground out. “And I am sick to death of being mistaken for her!”

Will laughed. “Oh, that’s a good one,” he said. “And I’ll believe it too—when hell freezes over.” He started toward the horses, dragging her along behind him.

“Jesus, will you look at me!” Katherine cried. “I am not her! Can’t you see that? Are you blind?”

Will pulled her up short and drew her close, his eyes flicking over her. “I guess there’s one way to find out for sure,” he drawled. “Eh?”

Katherine shrank back, her eyes widening in horror and revulsion. “No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “No!” She tried to pull away from him but he just laughed and pulled her along like a piece of light weight baggage, his fingers holding her in a painful grip.

“Hey, Tommy. I want you to take some of the money in that bag of hers. There’s a little town ’bout five miles east of here. They got a saloon there, I think, an’ girls too. You go an’ get yourself drunk and meet here in the morning. I’ll have her all nice and quiet for you by then.”

Tommy grinned and Katherine shuddered, feeling a sick dread creep over her. “I’ll die before I let you have me,” she said.

“You might,” Will agreed easily.

Tommy mounted his horse, coins jingling in his pockets, and tipped his hat to the both of them. Katherine watched him, her mind wanting to recede into the darkness after him.

“Now you an’ me can have a nice quiet time together,” Will said. “Get to know each other again.”

“I am not Alanna,” Katherine repeated, feeling like a broken record no one was paying attention to.

“Yeah? Well, I guess we’ll see about that, won’t we.”

And in one swift, violent motion, Will threw her to the ground and straddled her. He ripped her blouse apart as if it were paper and kneed her legs apart.

“Please,” Katherine whimpered. “Please, don’t, I’m not . . . I’m not . . . ” Her cries were cut off by his mouth coming down upon hers. He kissed her hard, and Katherine gagged, her tongue recoiling from his. She tried to twist her head away but he took hold of her hair and gave it a painful yank. Then his mouth moved down to her breasts.

But even as the scream tore loose from her throat he stopped. His head came up short and his hands moved to her breasts, gently now.

“Get up,” he said.

“Please,” she whimpered, her eyes brimming with tears.

“Just do it,” he said gruffly. “I ain’t gonna hurt you.”

Katherine did as he asked, her entire body shaking uncontrollably. Tears coursed down her cheeks, blinding her, making the night look hazy with sparkles. She felt his hand on her and flinched. But his touch was surprisingly light and she realized he was searching for something.

“Damn,” he swore. “I guess you ain’t her, though for the life of me I can’t figure out how.”

“I told you,” Katherine said, pulling her torn chemise and blouse together.

“Yeah, you did. But talk is cheap an’ you look jus’ like her—’til you start takin’ your clothes off.”

“Well, thank God for small favors,” Katherine sniffed.

“Yeah,” Will said with a little snicker. “I guess you oughta be grateful your titties ain’t as big as hers. An’ of course, you don’t have that scar on you neither. But what I want to know is how. You her sister or something?”

“Do you think I know? I’ve never set eyes on the woman and she’s caused me nothing but trouble!”

“You an’ me both,” Will muttered.

“So what now?” Katherine asked. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” Will answered, rubbing his chin.

“You could . . . you could let me go,” she suggested hopefully.

“Yeah, right.” Will laughed. “An’ have you go runnin’ to the nearest sheriff.”

“That would be the last place I would go! I already ran into the law once and nearly got myself hung.”

“Well, I suppose that’s true . . .”

“You could . . . you could tell them—”

“Oh sure, an’ I’m sure they’ll believe me. Anyhow, I ain’t riskin’ my neck for you. No, the way I figure it, you oughta stick by me for a while ’til I figure out what to do.”

“What about Tommy? Are you going to tell him?”

Will thought a moment. “No, I don’t think so. He’s expecting a piece of you and some of the loot.”

“I certainly hope you don’t plan on giving it to him, because I’ll kill him.”

Will chuckled. “You just might. You might not be her but you sure got her spunk.”

“Well, I’m not her, and I’m getting pretty tired of people thinking I am.”

“I’ll bet you are. She ain’t very well-liked.”

“Obviously, since everyone I’ve met thus far wants her dead—or worse.”

“Yep. They do,” Will agreed.

“Why do you want her?”

“She double-crossed me,” Will answered after a moment’s hesitation. “She took off with the money we stole.”

“She’s probably spent it by now.”

“I don’t think so. No, she’s probly livin’ comfortable somewhere an’ feelin’ pretty pleased with herself.”

Katherine couldn’t see the scowl but she was sure it was there. Will’s tone had turned bitter as he paced, kicking at the dirt beneath his feet.

“You might want to change your shirt if you got a spare one,” he said, gesturing to the valise, adding, “I won’t look.”

“I can’t . . . I need my hands,” she said.

Will gave a disgruntled sigh before untying the ropes then turned away, becoming an instant gentleman, much to her surprise. Katherine pulled out the first thing that came to hand. When she’d finished dressing he tied her wrists again despite her protests.

“I got enough to worry about without wondering about you,” he said.

Katherine let loose a frustrated sigh, wishing she could explain to him exactly where she would go. If she could just get back to Leavenworth . . .

She glared up at the night sky while Will paced beside her like a nervous cat. It was completely dark now but for the moon and stars. A slight breeze had come across the plains, ruffling through her hair and sending a shiver up her back.

Will quit his pacing then, taking a blanket from his horse and handing it to her along with his canteen, “Here, this’ll keep you warm ’til I get a fire going. An’ don’t drink it all cuz it’s all I got.”

Katherine drank sparingly and watched while he made a small fire. As soon as the flames caught she plunked herself down before it, handing the canteen back to Will.

“I don’t suppose you have any food?” she asked hopefully.

“Nope. Me an’ Tommy ate the last of what I had this morning.”

Katherine nodded, not surprised. Of course she was hungry in addition to everything else. Why wouldn’t she be? It was simply another discomfort to be endured. She almost laughed. It would’ve been hilarious if it wasn’t so depressing.

This whole adventure had been a comedy of errors from the beginning, starting with her idiotic notion that she needed a vacation. The fact that the key—the one thing she was to hold onto at all costs, the one thing she was not to lose under any circumstances—was sitting inside a book on the bed at the Silver Slipper, a place she was heading away from, well, that was simply the icing on the cake.