Authors: Leigh Greenwood
Victoria winced. “What was that for? There can’t be a living soul within twenty miles.”
“My horse. He’s trained to come when I whistle.”
“What if he’s tied up or hobbled?”
“I never tie him when I’m on the trail.”
“You think you’re very clever, don’t you?”
“No. Just careful. Not everybody wants to go with me.”
“I can’t imagine why. Hanging is a such a once-in-a-life-time experience.”
“So is being shot by your wife.”
“That’s what I kept telling Jeb as I filled him full of lead. ‘Darling,’ I said–I always called him darling. I wanted him to know how much I loved him–‘You don’t know how lucky you are. Not many men are fortunate enough to be killed by their wives. Most of the time they’re killed by somebody they don’t even like.’”
“Did anybody ever tell you you have an unnatural sense of humor?”
“Did anybody ever tell you you have a grotesque job?” Victoria responded sweetly.
“A time or two.”
A crashing in the underbrush caused Trinity to look away from Victoria. His horse had found him. Victoria’s horse followed.
“At least we won’t have to walk out of …” he said turning back.
But Victoria wasn’t there. She had escaped.
“Damn!” Trinity said, unable to hear Victoria because of the unholy racket the horses were making in the undergrowth. Fortunately, just as he was about to dust off a seldom-used portion of his vocabulary, he caught a glimpse of her brown deerskin jacket.
Trinity mounted his horse before the animal had come to a halt. Victoria’s horse came up behind, momentarily blocking Trinity’s way, but he soon got turned around and headed across the ridge. Victoria might be able to thread her way through the underbrush faster than he could, but she was no match for his horse.
Victoria’s look of fury when she glanced over her shoulder almost made him laugh. She dashed around a large tree, but one look around must have made it plain she couldn’t escape. Much to his surprise, she stopped and waited for him to reach her.
“I can’t believe you gave up,” Trinity said, dismounting.
“I didn’t give up,” Victoria said. “I’m just not stupid enough to try outrunning a horse.”
“I’m glad to see you’ve come to your senses.”
But the minute he reached out to help Victoria mount up, she turned into a scratching, hitting, kicking virago. New scratches appeared on his face.
“Stop it before I swat you.”
“Why the warning?” Victoria asked as she aimed a kick at his crotch. “I would have thought slugging females was part of your bag of dirty tricks.”
“I never tried to bring in a female before,” Trinity said, covering his face as he rushed in to overpower Victoria with sheer body mass. “I’m sorry I decided to make an exception in your case.”
The two of them went over in a heap; Trinity ending up on top of Victoria, nose to nose, toe to toe.
“Get off me,” Victoria grunted. “You’ll break my ribs.”
“You promise to stop scratching.”
“Never.”
She tried to rake his face, but Trinity’s body pinned her down. He buried his face in her bosom while he captured her hands.
Had the circumstances been almost anything other than they were, Trinity would have laughed, or succumbed to his lust for her body.
Here he was, alone with a beautiful woman, and instead of having to fight off the raging desire which coursed through his body, he had to fight for his life. He might as well have embraced a catamount.
Yet, as he struggled to capture her hands, he was more aware of her nearness, the feel of her softness beneath him, than of the painful bruises and scratches.
He tried to concentrate on tying her ankles, but her ankles were attached to her legs, and her legs to her thighs. The struggle had exposed one thigh completely. The unguarded expanse of tender white flesh caused Trinity to forget what he was doing until a painful kick reminded him.
Trinity forgot her ankles. He would tie them once she was on horseback. He tied her hands and got to his feet, shaken to the core. He had practically been fighting for his life, yet contact with her body had caused his own body to swell with a desire so naked and so strong they both saw it.
He’d never been ashamed of his reaction to a woman, but he was ashamed that his lust for Victoria had almost made him forget his duty. He kept seeing her as a beautiful, spirited, desirable woman, rather than a cold, dangerous, calculating, murderess. He kept thinking of her beauty, of her charm and allure, instead of her cold heart and lethal fingernails.
If he couldn’t force himself to think of her as just another prisoner, he might never get back to Texas.
“I’ll ask you once again, do you promise not to try to run away?”
“I’ll never stop trying to escape from you.”
“I’ve got to give you credit for determination.”
“I don’t know about the rest of your victims, but I’m not fond of the idea of hanging.”
“You’re not my victim.”
“Yes, I am,” Victoria shot back at him. “You came strolling into our valley like a wandering troubadour, easygoing and carefree. You made me believe there was more to my life than I’d let myself see. You made me want to be part of the world again. The moment you saw the stars of stupidity in my eyes, you tricked me into meeting you. And I fell into your hands like a ripe plum.” She spat out a particularly colorful Spanish curse. “I’m not just mad at you. I’m so furious with myself I can’t see straight.
“From the first, Buc told me you were nothing but a common cowboy, a saddle bum, a con man out for what you could get. But I wouldn’t believe him. No, I was fool enough to like you. You can’t know how that hurts now. All of us misjudge people now and again, but I must be really stupid not to recognize a vulture.”
Her words stung.
Trinity had always regarded his work as on par with a U.S. Marshal. He repeatedly risked his life to protect society from lawlessness. He volunteered to take on particularly unpleasant jobs because no one else would or could. And he refused all offers of reward. He didn’t expect people to praise him, but he’d always had a feeling of personal satisfaction. Now he felt guilty that he had betrayed Victoria’s trust and destroyed her hopes.
It had never occurred to him to consider how his work was viewed by those he captured. They were guilty of terrible crimes. They had escaped without paying their debt to society. He didn’t decide their guilt or pronounce their sentence. A judge and jury had already done that.
Neither had it occurred to him to care what his prisoners thought of him. They didn’t deserve consideration because they were murderers. He had gone after them and spared no effort to bring them to justice. Once that was done, he never thought about them again.
But he knew he would remember Victoria. He wanted her to understand that as much as he’d give anything to hold her in his arms rather than in chains, he couldn’t. He acted from principles which never wavered, never changed.
They couldn’t change because the past never changed.
But he wouldn’t explain. There wasn’t any point in it. She might be a soft, vulnerable, sexy woman, but she had killed her husband just as dead as if she’d been Queenie.
Trinity looked at Victoria lying in the leaves and pine needles. She looked so beautiful, so kind, so gentle until you looked into her clear blue eyes. That’s where you saw the real Victoria Davidge: cold, angry, and utterly determined to escape.
“I’d have thought living off other people’s misery would leave a bad taste in your mouth.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Trinity said, relieved to have his gloomy thoughts interrupted. He picked her up and settled her into the saddle. “I get a good feeling knowing I’ve helped to make the world safer.”
Victoria fell out of the saddle on the other side of her horse and headed quickly into the brush.
“Goddamn it, woman,” Trinity shouted as he plunged after her. That’s what he got for going soft. If he’d tied her across the saddle like the last two men he’d brought in, this wouldn’t have happened.
Victoria didn’t respond. He should have known she wouldn’t waste energy talking to him until he captured her. At least her hands were tied this time. She wouldn’t be able to scratch his face to ribbons before he could get her under control.
He had to follow on foot. There was no way he could ride down that slope. He just hoped his horse could find a way down. After all this running and climbing and fighting, he didn’t know if he had the strength to carry her out.
Trinity captured Victoria with a flying tackle. He made certain this time to hold tight to both legs until he could sit on them. She lay flat on her stomach. He didn’t look at her face or touch any part of her body except her ankles.
“I tried to make it easy on you,” Trinity said between gasps for breath, “but now we play by my rules.”
Victoria said something, but the words got lost in leaves and pine needles.
“I’m going to tie you on your horse. You can throw yourself over if you like, but if you do, you’ll ride under his belly until we reach camp. It’s about fifteen miles, so I’d advise against it.”
Victoria glared at him in response.
“How I treat you when we get to camp is up to you. I can leave you tied up the whole time, or you can have some freedom in return for reasonable cooperation.”
Victoria spat a leaf out of her mouth. “Go to hell!”
“So much for reasonable cooperation,” Trinity muttered.
He sat down. He was breathing hard. He’d once captured a brawny six-foot-three fighter with less effort.
“What’s the matter?” Victoria demanded. “Are you lost?”
“I’m waiting for the horses to find us,” Trinity said. “I don’t want to carry you up that slope.”
“Too weak?”
Yes, but not in the way you mean
. “Too tired,” he said aloud. “I’m not used to foot races.”
“Can’t keep up with a mere woman?”
“So it seems,” Trinity confessed, “but I’d like a rematch when I’m not wearing my boots.”
“I’ll race you now, bad ankle and all.”
“Not a chance. One more race, and I’d have to tie myself on my horse.”
His admission of weakness seemed to cool some of Victoria’s anger.
“You know my uncle will come after me. It would save everybody a lot of trouble if you’d let me go now. You’ll only get hurt if you force a gun battle. You can tell the sheriff you tried and failed.”
Trinity was touched that even now Victoria could be worried about him. All the emotions he had ruthlessly pushed aside during the day threatened to break out of their confinement. But now was the wrong time, and Victoria the wrong woman.
But her words injured his pride as much as they gladdened his heart. It was bad enough she thought he might fail—he never had—but it jolted his sense of honor to know she thought he would give up and say he had tried.
No threat of danger had ever turned him from his purpose. It never would.
Many times during the past fifteen years his pride in his success and his belief in the rightness of his task were all that sustained him. Her words, and his own weakness, threatened to take that away. He wouldn’t let her. He couldn’t.
“You’re going back to Bandera.”
“Never,” Victoria replied hotly.
The commotion of the horses clambering through the brush kept Trinity from making a reply. He untied the rope from one foot and lifted her into the saddle making certain to stay clear of her teeth. He didn’t think she would bite him, but at this point he didn’t put anything past her. Before she had time to grasp the pommel and push off, Trinity reached under the horse’s belly, grasped the dangling rope, and tied it securely to the other foot.
He knew it hurt because she winced. But she didn’t say anything.
“Hold on to the pommel and keep your knees tight against the horse’s side. It’ll relieve some of the pressure.”
“I know how to ride,” she said through clenched teeth.
He watched her squeeze her eyelids together.
She swallowed. “You’ve got the rope too tight.”
He knew that admission hurt her pride.
“Tell me when it stops hurting,” he said as he loosened the rope. Victoria didn’t say anything, but he could tell when the pain stopped by the way her body sagged in relief.
Satisfied the rope was tight enough to hold her, Trinity took her horse’s reins and tied them to his pommel. He men took a rope from his saddle, put it over the horse’s head, and tied that to the saddle as well.
“I know married people who aren’t as securely bound together,” Victoria commented. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll shoot you if I get too close?”
“You’d never shoot me.”
Trinity’s own words surprised him. They didn’t make sense. Anyone who had killed her husband would shoot him the first chance she got.
“Keep on thinking that. In fact, I want you to be so sure you’ll leave your guns and rifle out just to prove you’re right.”