Annie's Song (2 page)

To look at Douglas, one would think him to be a nice young man with his neatly trimmed, tawny hair and laughing brown eyes. He had everything going for him, money, privilege, and an impressive education
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from an exclusive eastern college. But all of that wasn’t enough, not for him, and it probably never would be. There seemed to be a need within him for power, a need to control others. That need had long since manifested itself with Alan and his friends and was now being unleashed on Annie.

Only Annie wasn’t capable of fighting back.

Alan took one look into her bewildered blue eyes and turned on Douglas. “Damn you! She isn’t right in her mind, Douglas, and you know it. Pick on somebody who can give back as good as she gets.”

“Her mind may be tetched, but the rest of her is in fine form,” Douglas countered. “Holy revelations, I can see her titties plain as day.” Giving a low whistle that boded ill for Annie, he added, “Makes my mouth water just looking at ‘em.”

Alan turned to his friends for help. Hands buried in his pockets, Sam bent his head and shuffled the toe of one boot in the reddish dirt, as if he thought ignoring the situation would make it disappear. Roddy snickered, and James’s ruddy face had turned scarlet. Despite their embarrassment, neither seemed able to drag his gaze from Annie’s bodice. Reluctantly, Alan took a quick look himself. It was true that her nipples stood out in sharp relief. To make matters worse, her skirt clung to her thighs. Disgusted with himself for even noticing, Alan tore his gaze from the forbidden. Like a cold fist, fear for Annie clenched his guts.

“Your mama’s crazy, girl, for letting you traipse all over the countryside half-dressed,” Douglas said softly, still dangling the shawl as bait.

“Mentally she’s still a child, and not a very bright one at that,” Alan reminded him in a voice gone high-pitched with anxiety. “I’m sure her mother dresses her that way because she runs about in the woods so much. She trusts in the common decency of anyone who may encounter her, and rightly so.

She isn’t fair game, Douglas, and you know it. Give the girl her shawl and let her go home.”

“I’ll give it to her,” Douglas assured him. “All she has to do is come and get it. Come on, love. Come and see Douglas.”

Clearly oblivious of the carnal bent of her tormentor’s thoughts, Annie lunged for the garment. The instant she came within his reach, Douglas caught her around the waist. She didn’t scream, but the terrified little panting sounds she made seemed even worse. Alan’s stomach lurched. He didn’t like this.

He didn’t like it at all. The expression on Douglas’s face was evil. Evil and cruel. His whiskey-colored eyes gleamed with unholy excitement.

Alan stepped forward. “Let the girl go, Douglas. I mean it.”

“Girl?” His prey ensnared, Douglas discarded the shawl to press his hand over Annie’s well-rounded posterior. Judging by the way his fingers sank in, the bite of his grip was deliberately cruel. “You’re blind, my friend. No girl this, but a woman fully grown.”

With a low laugh, he tried to steal a kiss. Shoving ineffectually at his shoulders, Annie, her sable hair hanging in silken tangles down her slender back, her eyes clouded with confusion, managed to arch her back and avoid his mouth. Douglas settled for nibbling along the column of her throat.

“Damn, she’s sweet,” he murmured as he claimed a handful of breast with the same biting grip he had used on her backside.

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Rage surged through Alan. He’d be damned if he’d stand aside and watch the girl be hurt. This had gone far enough. He curled a hand over Douglas’s well-muscled arm. “I said let her—”

Whatever else Alan meant to say was cut short by the flash of a knife. He stared in mute astonishment as Douglas released Annie to assume a fighting stance and threaten him with the weapon, which seemed to have come out of nowhere.

“Don’t you ever interfere with me,” Douglas warned with deceptive softness.

Alan’s knees nearly buckled at the thought of that blade ripping open his middle. His only consolation was that in his anger, Douglas seemed to have forgotten Annie. Alan wanted to yell at her to run but knew that if he did, Douglas would remember what he had been about and grab her. He could only hope Annie had enough sense to flee of her own accord.

“Come on, Douglas. You’re drunk,” Alan observed shakily.

Run, Annie. Get the hell out of here! Alan felt sweat trickling down his spine. From the corner of his eye, he saw Annie casting about frantically for her wrap. Her breath came in shallow little pants, the sounds like those of a mewling kitten. She was obviously afraid and wanted to get away. But she wasn’t about to leave without her shawl. With a sinking sensation, Alan realized that, to her, the wrap was of utmost importance. If she returned home without it, her father would punish her. The poor thing didn’t comprehend the extent of the danger she was in. No surprise, that. He doubted any other man had ever even looked at her lustfully, let alone laid hands on her. She couldn’t anticipate something beyond her experience. In that moment, Alan’s definition of the word innocence took on new meaning, Annie its epitome.

Fixing his attention on Douglas, Alan decided to try to reason with him. If nothing else, he might at least gain some time for Annie. “Just calm down, Douglas. You don’t want to run afoul of the law, do you?

Mess with an idiot girl, and you sure as hell will. She’s old Judge Trimble’s daughter, for Christ’s sake.

Retired or no, he’ll see you hang by your balls from the flagpole on Main if you touch her.”

“How will he know? She can’t tell, remember?”

Because it was inarguably true, the observation made Alan’s blood run cold. Annie couldn’t talk. Even if she recognized them, she probably didn’t know their names and couldn’t repeat them if she did. He dared a quick glance in her direction and saw her tugging to free her shawl from an exposed tree root.

Jesus. Her parents had trained her well. So well that she was prepared to risk her hide rather than leave that worthless length of wool behind. Alan knew Annie had borne the brunt of cruel teasing for most of her life. She had no way of knowing this time was different, that Douglas had more on his mind than simply tormenting her. Far more.

James, who’d lowered himself onto a fallen log, rose to a half crouch, his gray eyes filled with incredulity, whether at the knife or at Douglas’s lurid suggestion, Alan wasn’t certain. “Surely you aren’t serious, Douglas,” James cried. “Whether she can tell or not, there’s the moral aspect to consider.”

“What moral aspect?” Douglas laughed. “You four are such namby-pambies. I don’t know why I waste my time with any of you. She’s probably hungry for it. Hell, she’s eighteen or nineteen if she’s a day.

Most girls her age are already married and have a child or two. This may be her one big chance to have some fun.”

Fun. The word hung in the air, ugly and discordant. Alan prayed he could hold Douglas’s attention, if
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only for a moment. Behind him, Annie had finally tugged her shawl free. As if he had eyes in the back of his head, Douglas reached back and caught her wrist as she turned to flee. She staggered under the force of his grip. When she saw the knife he wielded, her face drained of color. Alan guessed it had finally sunk into her dim little mind that Douglas might be truly dangerous.

Punctuating his warning to Alan with the sharp tip of his knife, Douglas asked, “Any of you want to take me on? If so, make like a frog, and hop on it.”

None of them was that foolish. Douglas was capable of killing. The glint in his eyes testified to that. He continued to wave the knife, his cold smile promising reprisal should any of them challenge him. When he was satisfied no one had the courage to do so, he returned the blade to its sheath on his belt and fixed his attention on Annie. She twisted helplessly, prying at his fingers to loosen his grip.

“You can’t do this,” Alan cried.

“Who’s going to stop me?”

Not Annie, certainly. She was a slightly built girl, Douglas a strapping six feet plus. With an agile twist of his body, he threw her to the ground, pushed up her skirts, and raped her as effortlessly as he might have a child.

Holding a lantern high to light his way, Alex Montgomery strode briskly along the alley that led through the stable. The pungent odor of fresh manure blended with the dusty smell of alfalfa hay to lay heavily on the crisp night air. Nickers of welcome drifted to him from the shadowy stalls. Under other circumstances, Alex might have stopped, but he didn’t have the time or inclination to hand out sugar lumps to the horses tonight.

Jerky splashes of golden light from the lantern and the quick motions of his shadow playing across the plank walls indicated the depth of his anger. Grinding his back teeth to keep from roaring, he reached the end of the corridor and kicked open the planked door to the tack room. As he hoped, his brother Douglas lay sprawled on a pile of scattered straw along one wall, one of his favorite places to sleep off a drinking binge.

Swallowing before he spoke to control the anger in his voice, Alex said, “Wake up, little brother. We need to talk.”

A whiskey jug in one hand, the other shading his eyes, the boy groaned and rolled over, presenting Alex with his back. “Go ‘way. It’s the middle of the night.”

Seven in the evening could scarcely be termed the middle of the night, and observing Douglas with the whiskey jug reminded Alex that it was high time he stopped thinking of his twenty-year-old brother as a boy.

“Wake up, I said.” Alex moved farther into the room and hung the lantern from a rafter hook. “There
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has been a very serious accusation lodged against you, young man, and I want to get to the bottom of it.”

Douglas groaned again. “Can’t we discuss it later?”

Planting his hands on his hips, Alex spread his jean-clad legs and jutted his chin. “Old Judge Trimble just paid me a visit. His daughter Annie has been raped, and Alan Dristol claims it was you who did it.”

That seemed to get Douglas’s attention, and he flopped onto his back to peer out from under his cupped fingers. Hope filled Alex. Lies, it was all lies. A horrible misunderstanding that could be cleared up with a few words from his brother. No Montgomery man would ever stoop so low as to force his attentions on a female, let alone one as helpless as Annie Trimble. Besides, why would Douglas bother? He was a handsome young man from an affluent family. Nearly every girl in town vied for his favor.

Douglas blinked as though trying to assimilate what had been said. “Alan claims what?” After a moment, he drew back his lips in a sneer. “That traitorous little bastard. Just wait till I get my hands on him.”

Like wet, icy fingers, the words snuffed out Alex’s last spark of hope. For a moment, he simply stood there, mired in disbelief. There wasn’t a trace of pity for Annie Trimble in Douglas’s voice, nor had he denied the accusation.

Dust from the straw floated up to sting Alex’s nostrils. A searing sensation washed over his eyes. “Tell me you didn’t do it, for God’s sake,” he demanded hoarsely. Even as he spoke, he heard the ring of desperation in his tone.

“I didn’t do it. Now, then, can the rest of this discussion wait until morning?”

“No, it damned well can’t.” Alex stepped closer, his body taut, his temples suddenly throbbing. “A girl has been raped. How can that possibly be left until morning? Old Judge Trimble is beside himself, and who can blame him? I want the truth, Douglas, and I want it now. What in heaven’s name happened?

Why would Alan say such a thing?”

“Because he’s a chicken-livered little turncoat, that’s why. I had too much to drink and things got out of hand. That’s all.”

“That’s all?” It seemed to Alex that the lantern light pulsated, glowing brightly one second, dimming slightly the next. “Dear God, Douglas, the girl has been violated.”

“It’s not like I did her any permanent harm.”

Permanent harm? “We’re discussing a rape, for Christ’s sake.”

“Rape.” Douglas huffed under his breath as though the charge was preposterous. “By definition, rape occurs when a man forces his unwanted attentions on a female. Annie Trimble got exactly what she’s been angling for.”

“What?”

“Only look at how she dresses and comports herself! Wearing naught but a thin camisole and bloomers under her dress, no corset or petticoats to conceal her shape. Flitting about like a wood nymph, unchaperoned! She’s been issuing an invitation to every man in Hooper County since she first developed bubbies. What’s a fellow to do, pretend he’s stone-blind? I was drunk, I tell you. A man can only
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withstand so much temptation. Her mother should know better than to let her run around dressed like that with no one to attend her.”

“My God,” Alex whispered. “You did it, didn’t you? You raped that poor girl.”

His jaw muscle ticking, Douglas angled his forearm over his golden-brown eyes. “You’re such a bleeding heart, Alex. Annie Trimble’s brains may be baked, but she’s right as rain from the neck down.

She wanted it as much as I did. And even if she didn’t, what does it matter? She can’t remember her own name, let alone what happened to her five minutes ago. The way you’re acting, you’d think I diddled Amy Widlow, the preacher’s daughter.”

“Amy Widlow, Annie Trimble, wherein lies the difference? Rape is rape.”

Once again, Douglas gave a derisive snort. An unholy urge came over Alex to jerk him up from his bed of straw and shake him sober. Instead he simply stared, praying this was a bad dream. Douglas had always been a hellion, but for all his unruliness, he had never done anyone serious harm. Because he hadn’t, Alex had fooled himself into believing he never would. He’ll grow out of it, Alex had assured himself time and again. He’s just high-spirited. Now Alex knew better. No matter what his age, a man either had the ability to feel compassion or didn’t. It wasn’t something that could be taught. What burdened Alex the most was that he might have saved Annie Trimble this heartbreak if only he had opened his eyes sooner; if he hadn’t refused to accept the glaring truth, that Douglas was no damned good and never would be.