Circle Eight: Vaughn (7 page)

Nicholas Graham saddled the horse with a bit more force than necessary. The bay sidled away from him and reached around to try to take a bite. He sidestepped the equine teeth and patted his great neck.

“Sorry, boy, I know I’m being ornery.”

The horse shook his head as though he understood the words. He was a smart mount, and had been Nick’s since he’d been eight years old. Now, seventeen years later, Rusty acted like an old man, reminded him of Granny Dolan sometimes.

“I’m going with you.” Benjy appeared in the stall door, his jaw set. The youngest Graham had grown so lanky, he barely fit into the clothes Hannah had lengthened for him last month. His too-long hair hung in his eyes, the light brown locks wavy because of their length.

Since his return to the Graham family four years ago, he spent half of his time at Olivia’s house and the other half at the Circle Eight. No one had yet found out what happened to Benjy during the five years he’d been missing—Nick couldn’t find the balls to ask. As a result, the fourteen-year-old kept himself apart, perhaps due to his own behavior and to everyone else’s tiptoeing around the young man. Nick was no exception.

“No, you’re not. Matt told me to go, not you.” It had been a week off their ranch duties. Lorenzo and Javier had volunteered to manage the herd and Elizabeth was taking care of Granny Dolan. Everyone else visited with Olivia and Brody and their brood and celebrated little Stuart’s fourth birthday. The boy was the spitting image of his ex-Ranger father and just as stubborn.

However, their idyllic week came to an end after only three days. Matt had “an itch between his shoulder blades” and that meant something was wrong at the ranch. Since Nick was the only male aside from Benjy not saddled with a wife and young ’uns, Matt elected him to ride the fifty miles back home and check on everything.

“I have a right to check on Ellie.” Benjy folded his skinny arms and sported a mulish expression. Of all the siblings, he only spoke regularly to Elizabeth and Catherine. If he were honest with himself, Nick barely knew him.

“Liv wants you here and so does Stuart. He’ll wail like a banshee if you leave before his party.” Nick didn’t want the boy riding with him. It was bad enough he had to go, he didn’t want to be responsible for Benjy too.

“I already talked to her. She told me it would be okay. Matt knows too.” Benjy resembled their mother, Meredith, strongly. Those blue-green eyes could have been Mama’s. He was a good-looking young man and would have girls buzzing around him like a hive of bees soon. It was too bad he kept himself to himself. Except for today. Lucky Nick.

“You didn’t talk to me and it’s not okay. I ain’t letting you tag along.” Nick tightened the cinch strap and patted the horse’s belly. “I’m ready to go after I get some vittles from the house.”

“My horse is saddled and I got the food from Liv.” Benjy gestured to the right. “Kickers is already outside waiting.”

“Shit.” Nick had no reason to say no to the boy. It would be a good idea for him to spend time with him but he didn’t want to. That didn’t sound very Graham-like but it was the truth. Benjy made him uncomfortable and he didn’t know what to do about it.

“I won’t slow you down. I’ve been pulling my weight on the ranch.” It was true. Although he was skinny as a fence post, Benjy worked the Circle Eight whenever he was there. He was wiry and strong even if he was odd.

“Fine. Keep up or I’ll send you back.”

Benjy darted out of the barn, leaving Nick to wonder if he’d done the right thing. He had to stop treating him as if his younger brother was different from their other siblings. All eight of them had their own ways and he was no different. But he was and Nick knew it.

Nick led his horse out of the stall and out into the gray light of dawn. The sun had started to paint the sky pink and orange but it would be another hour before it was truly up. He wanted to get started early enough to avoid the hottest part of the day, which meant he would ride hard.

Benjy sat on his horse, hat in place and a surprisingly eager look on his face. Nick’s lips twitched at the sight. Underneath the strange behavior, Benjy was a Graham and he loved to ride. He put his foot in the stirrup and mounted Rusty. The horse whickered at the smaller cow pony, Kickers. Nick wondered if the old bay was telling the younger horse that he was in charge. It wouldn’t surprise him.

“Remember what I said.” Nick turned the bay around and kneed him into motion, toward the Circle Eight, to reassure their brother that all was well at the ranch. A boring waste of time, in Nick’s opinion, and a chore he would have gladly passed on.

Elizabeth bounced in the saddle hard enough to wake her up. She tried to straighten but pain ripped through her back and neck. She blinked against the bright sunlight, confused and sore. The reins were held by someone else and she rode, tied to the saddle horn, unable to move, unwilling to give up. She had fallen asleep, which was ridiculous, but perhaps Gibson’s fist had done more damage than she thought. Her jaw was sore and the residual taste of blood stayed in her mouth.

“Wake up, woman.” Gibson’s voice blew away the fuzziness of her thoughts.

She turned to glare at him, her hands, arms and behind numb from being tied to a horse all day. “Fuck you,” popped out of her mouth. She knew what it meant, considering she had four brothers, but it had never crossed her lips until now. Vaughn had thrown it out earlier and it damn well felt good to say it herself.

Gibson’s grizzly face reflected surprise for a brief moment before he scowled. “Ought to wash your mouth out with soap.”

“Go ahead and try it.” She threw a sharp glance his way before she looked away. Vaughn sat, bloody and unconscious, on the horse beside her. His cheek was swollen and purple, pushing his eye closed. Blood had dried in streams on his forehead and mouth. His hands were an angry red, tied tightly to the saddle. Although she was furious with him, he didn’t deserve the treatment he’d received.

They were in a wooded area, surrounded by leafy green deciduous trees. Nature danced all around them as dappled sunlight peeked through. It was a perfect summer day. If only she wasn’t held prisoner by an outlaw, kidnapped and bound.

“We need to stop.”

Gibson ignored her but she wasn’t in the mood to accept it.

“I will set this cow pony off and drag you across this forest. I know where I am, do you?” She narrowed her gaze, her anger now awake and pulsing.

“I’ll stop but only to take a piss. We got two more days hard ridin’ ahead of us and I ain’t stoppin’ to rest ’til we get there.” Gibson pointed ahead. “I hear water up yonder.”

Elizabeth let loose a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. She would be able to wash up, possibly help Vaughn and get a few minutes’ rest to try to find an escape from this situation. The pistol bounced against her thigh, reminding her she had one option but she had to wait until the right moment to use it.

He pulled up at the edge of a small creek. It was barely six inches deep but the water ran clear. Elizabeth waited impatiently while her captor dismounted and let the horses to the water. Jeb did the same for Vaughn, although he was still out cold.

“Vaughn, wake up.” She kicked at his leg.

He didn’t even move. She had the awful notion he had died and they were carrying a corpse around. Her heart picked up its pace. Not that she had any desire to have anything to do with the man, but she didn’t wish him dead. She kicked again, enough to make her own foot hurt.

Vaughn groaned and twitched, his eyes rolling in his head. “Wha?”

“Wake up and fight for yourself, fool.” She wasn’t being very kind, but at the moment she couldn’t dredge up one iota of kindness for any one of these men.

He peered at her from his right eye, the left too swollen to open. “I’m sorry, Ellie.” She heard true regret in his voice.

“You should be.” She didn’t blame him entirely for the situation, considering he shared it with the bastards who held them captive.

Her bladder picked that moment to remind her she truly did need to relieve herself. She squirmed on the saddle, eager to get off the horse. Gibson, the bastard, took his sweet time watering the horses while she listened to the sound of the gurgling creek. It was sheer torture and he knew it. The snake grinned at her, reminding her he was a handsome bastard beneath the grime. She wanted to kick his teeth in.

“Ready?” Gibson picked at the knots holding her to the saddle. Prickles of sensation attacked her hands and wrists. She sucked in a breath through her teeth as those prickles became pain.

“Let me down.” She’d be damned if she said “please” to him. She had to nurse her anger, it was keeping her strong. Thinking about home, about Martha, was too painful. Right now, she had to consider how to get away from them and back home, if there was anything to return to.

Her heart ached for what she knew she’d lost, even if she couldn’t see it. Gibson did this to her and he needed something from Vaughn. She didn’t know all the details yet, just that it involved a deed and money. Vaughn Montgomery was a confident man and he’d swindled the Gibsons. They obviously weren’t upstanding citizens but no one deserved to be tricked.

Yet she pitied him. He hadn’t recovered from his previous wound and now he’d been beaten again, enough to make him unconscious for eight hours or more. She was no doctor but head injuries were dangerous. Some people were never the same after a serious hit to the head.

Gibson took her by the waist and pulled her off the saddle. Before she could come to terms with being so close to him, he leaned down and whispered in her ear, his mustache tickling the sensitive skin.

“Don’t want you runnin’ away, now do we?” He tied his wrist to hers with three feet of rope between them. She struggled with her fury, which threatened to make her do something foolish, like shoot Gibson before she had a clear escape plan.

She stepped back and right into the horse behind her. It shifted and bumped her. She stumbled and Gibson grabbed her by the shoulders.

“Don’t touch me.” She yanked away from him. “I need to pee.” She couldn’t bear the thought of touching this man, this murderer.

“Then get a move on.” If he thought she would cower at his watching her perform bodily functions, he was in for a surprise. She had grown up with such a big family, there wasn’t much she hadn’t seen or been seen.

“Tobias, leave her be. She had no part in this.” Vaughn’s scratchy voice followed her to the bushes.

Tobias. Her captor’s first name was in contrast to his behavior. The name Tobias spoke of a young man next door, an innocent, honest person. Gibson was a dirty kidnapper who had burned her family’s house to the ground, killed her grandmother and horses. She didn’t want to feel anything for him but contempt.

She took care of her business and then walked toward the creek, yanking Gibson along behind her. She refused to think of him as Tobias. If she did, he became human to her and she wanted to continue thinking of him as a monster. The Graham warrior inside her howled for his blood.

She washed up in the creek, splashing the cool water on her heated cheeks. It soothed her chafed skin although her right wrist still suffered. She ignored Gibson, who stood over her, watching and judging.

“You get your fill?” He tugged at the tether. “We need to get movin’.”

“I’m hungry.” She got to her feet. “I need to eat and so does Vaughn.”

He frowned. “Who’s Vaughn?”

She had enough of the shadows around Vaughn’s name and identity. “Let’s find out.” Elizabeth marched back to the horses, determined to make him confess.

He was still tied to the horse, his hands nearly purple. Without asking, she untied him and helped him down, his weight familiar. His breath puffed out against her cheek.

“Hell, woman, how strong are you?”

She didn’t answer him since it was a stupid question. “We’re going to the creek.”

“Now wait a minute—”

“Shut up, Gibson. He needs water and if he doesn’t get blood back in his hands, he’s going to lose them and you won’t get what you want if he dies from it.”

They walked slowly, Vaughn hobbled beside her, wheezing and huffing. He fell to his knees on the soft ground and pushed his face into the water.

“I don’t care if he loses his fucking hands long as he tells me what I need to know.” Gibson was relentless in his pursuit of whatever he wanted.

“If he dies before that, you won’t get anything besides a corpse and a furious woman.” She massaged Vaughn’s wrists and was glad to see the normal color returning.

He lifted his head, the water dripping down his face. “Thank you, Ellie.” His black hair was matted with blood, water and dirt. Her anger at him wavered again. She had brought him back to life once. It was becoming a habit she didn’t know how to break.

“Just don’t die on me.” She sat beside him and rubbed his back. The last three days had been intense and she’d spent more time alone with him than anyone in years. Strange but true. In a big family, two people were rarely alone unless they were married. “I spent too much time keeping you alive.”

A rusty chuckle burst out of his mouth. “Too bad Gibson is trying to kill me then.”

She glared up at the outlaw, his arms crossed, his expression dark. “He’s a bigger fool than you are.”