Katy Run Away (8 page)

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Authors: Maren Smith

Tags: #Romance, #Historical Western

BOOK: Katy Run Away
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“You have money?” the bandit asked, beginning to smile once more.

“Not on me,” she quickly told him. “It’s in the bank back in Dustwallow, almost eight hundred dollars, and I will give it to you. Every penny if you promise not to hurt anyone.” Katy swallowed hard, not sure she knew how to read that sudden hardness creeping through the bandit’s eyes. Not that it mattered. At this point, nothing else mattered to her but one thing.

“Exactly what are you suggesting? That you write me a check?” The bandit tipped his head slightly. “Do you think I can just walk into town and cash it?”

“No, b-but if you take me with you back to town, I’ll withdraw my money and give it to you. You won’t even need to rob me.”

Heedless of the gun against his cheek, Cal turned all the way around to stare at her. “Katy, what—”

“I’m sorry, Cal.” She shook her head, her eyes darting nervously between the two men: one, openly appalled; the other, watching her through narrow, shadow-hidden eyes. “I can’t go home. I just can’t.” She turned back to the bandit. “Take me with you, promise me you won’t hurt anyone here, and I’ll give you all the money I have.”

Cal tried to grab her arm, but again stopped, grinding his teeth in frustration when the bandit moved the cold, metal press of gun from his cheek to his left temple. Cal held up his hands helplessly, but his eyes fairly burned, pleading with her not to go.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered again. She quickly turned her face away so she wouldn’t have to see the way he stared at her when the bandit at long last smiled and held up his hand. She took it, and without another thought, let herself be pulled down off the stage.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER FIVE

 

Her stomach full of nervous fluttering, Katy followed the bandit away from the coach, leaving Cal behind her, his hands still held up in the air and all those guns pointing straight at him. One of the other men had slipped in to take the lead bandit’s spot, guarding the coach’s open door with his revolver steadily aimed inside. There were six bandits in all, and every one of them was armed. Only the leader was smiling.

“Eight hundred dollars, eh?”

Katy glanced back over her shoulder, wringing her hands slightly as she watched the men point their guns at Cal. “They’re not going to hurt him, are they?”

“Ah now, darlin’,” the lead bandit drawled. “Don’t you worry about his well-being. Were I you, I’d be much more concerned right now about my own.”

Snapping around, Katy locked her eyes on the bandit. He was still smiling, the light from the coach lamps bathing parts of his face in soft amber and leaving the rest of him lost in night’s shadow.

“Do you or do you not have eight hundred dollars?” he asked.

“I do, and I meant what I said. I’ll give it to you, every penny, if you take me back to town.”

He folded his arms across his chest, one corner of his mouth quirking upwards as he studied her. “Where did you get that kind of money? No offense, but you don’t look rich. Did you steal it?”

She blanched “No!” She swept him with derisive eyes. “Unlike you, I work for my way.”

That quirk of a smile broadened, but nothing else about him hinted toward amusement. “This whole time I’ve been calling you ‘madame’, I had no idea I was so close to the truth. Is that why you can’t go home? Afraid to let mommy and daddy see what their little girl has become?”

A rush of heat flared through Katy’s face. Her palm itched but she didn’t slap him. She drew herself stiffly upright. “Do you want my money or not?”

If anything, his eyes hardened, though he never lost that twist of a smile. “Do you care at all about that man in the coach?”

The question knocked Katy a little off balance. Losing some of her haughtiness, she glanced back at the coach over her shoulder. Where they were standing, she couldn’t see Cal and he wouldn’t be able to see her either. That made her a little nervous, but there was nothing she could do to change any of this. She looked to the leader of the bandits again. “He…he’s an old friend.”

It was something of a surprise to her to realize, in spite of everything—his heavy-handed tendencies, the spankings—she did think of him that way.

The bandit took a step toward her. “Old is the best kind of friend there is. They’ve been around long enough to see us at our worst, our most irrational, our ugliest, basest selves. When they’ve seen all that and still hang around, they become something more than just a friend. They become worth our protection and respect. So, do your old friend a favor, hm? Don’t scream.”

The fine hairs prickling along the back of her neck, Katy shifted a half-step backwards. “D-don’t—”

The bandit grabbed her arm, yanking her around even as he swept her feet out from under her and knocked her flat on her belly to the hard ground. The impact knocked the wind right out of her. Her involuntary gasp for air sucked dirt into her mouth and became an instant coughing, hacking wheeze. She barely felt it when the bandit dropped on top of her, at least not until she felt the jerk as he wrenched the back of her skirts up to her waist and his knees wedged in between her legs, forcing them apart.

She threw herself into a frenzy of wild arching and bucking, but he clamped his hand against the side of her head, pinning her ruthlessly to the ground. She slapped back with one hand, but he caught it and held it trapped behind her back. She wore herself out kicking, struggling, fighting to roll over, but in the end, she was left pinioned in the dust, panting and scared and unable to move to any effective degree.

“Katy!” The stage rocked as Cal shifted on the seat, ignoring the guns aimed at him in preference of finding her via the only options available to him. “Katy, are you all right?”

A hot breath brushed her dusty cheek. Leaning down, all but lying down on top of her, the leader of the bandits murmured just behind her ear, “Soothe his fears, Madame Pope. Be a friend. Tell him you’re fine. Now. Before he attempts racing to your rescue and I have to kill the poor bastard.”

Shaking, Katy willed her voice to reflect a steadiness and calm she was far from feeling. “I’m f-fine,” she called, then had to swallow hard just to keep back the slew of acidic insults that flooded her mouth when the bandit on her back gently patted her head.

“I have a baby sister just like you,” he said, making himself comfortable on top of her. His fingers idly stroked her hair. “Pretty. Pampered. With two God-fearing parents and seven older brothers to watch over her, all so overprotective that her only chance for marriage will be the one that comes with the veil and vows of a nun. Like you, she speaks her mind every chance she gets because she has no idea how the world really works.” He grunted, speculative. Stroking her hair one last time, he then fisted his hands in her tangle of curls and forced her head up off the ground so that he could see her face. “What exactly did you think was going to happen when you so recklessly offered to accompany us, hm? Did you really think we would escort you back to town and then simply wait around to see if you signaled the law? For eight hundred dollars? And what would we do with you in the meantime, except throw you down into this very position while each of us ever so politely take turns.”

Fighting not to make a sound, afraid to let him see the fear growing in her eyes, Katy stared straight ahead of her. A whole, great blanket of stars were winking into sight across the indigo sky above. Peripherally, she could see the coach, surrounded by bandits, and the two drivers still sitting with hands held high, watching her humiliation helplessly. The thinner of the two men kept shifting, as if so badly wanting to intervene and yet knowing he’d probably die if he tried.

“You know what your problem is?” the leader of the bandits asked, his tone once more rising out of the ominous growl it had become, turning painstakingly cordial once more. “You’re spoiled, that’s what. You should really try thinking about the wants and needs of someone other than yourself for a while. Might do you some good.”

“I do think about other people,” Katy said, her voice trembling with the anger she was trying so hard not to show.

Tipping his head, the leader of the bandits regarded her in silence. Slowly, he released his grip on her hair. “No. You don’t.” He stroked the soft lengths one last time. “If you did, your old friend wouldn’t now be forced to drag you home again. Don’t be angry with him. It’s a man’s nature, to want to protect the ones he loves. Even from themselves.”

Shoving back off her, the bandit dragged her to her feet and walked her back to the coach. His man got out of the way when he approached the open door. Planting a hand under her bottom, he didn’t just boost her up, he tossed her. Cal caught her, his arms like comforting bands of steel, pulling her onto the seat when she might otherwise have hit the floor on her knees. He all but pulled her onto his lap, holding her close.

“Take her home,” the leader of the bandits told him. “Whip her if she won’t stay there. This is no place for a woman, much less one half-grown.” Turning to his men, he said, “We’re taking the horses. Madame Pope can walk back to town. Besides,” he smiled, white teeth flashing in the near dark as he glanced back in at them. “Wouldn’t want the law following too close at our heels, now would we?”

Katy jumped when he shut the stagecoach door and felt Cal’s arms tighten around her. She listened, half in relief and half in disbelief as the horses were released from their harnesses and the bandits rode away.

“My God!” Cal hugged her fiercely, his hands searching all over her for hint of real injury. “Katy, are you hurt?”

She tried to nod, but he held her too tightly. Or was she holding him? She couldn’t get her arms to let him go. She couldn’t stop shaking, either. And when she opened her mouth to tell him she was fine, all that came out was a high-pitched keening sound.

Cal began to rock her. “It’s all right, Katy. It’s all right.”

But it didn’t feel all right. Burying her face against his shoulder, she began to sob. No, it didn’t feel all right at all.

 

* * * * *

 

Please disregard previous disregarding telegraph. STOP Bandits held up stage. STOP Everyone is safe and well. STOP We are going back to original plan and will, God willing, come up on the Tuesday train. END

 

“We’re never getting out of Dustwallow,” Cal said as he paid the telegraph operator with what few coins the bandits hadn’t thought to rob him of. Though he was trying for humor, Katy never cracked a smile. She stood silently beside him, staring down the dusty street after the stagecoach drivers, as they entered the sheriff’s office to report the robbery. Cal looked at her, uncomfortable with how thoroughly defeated she seemed. He tried another joke, hoping he could lighten the heavy set of her small shoulders. “Remind me to get my boots resoled before we try again.”

Katy didn’t move and she certainly didn’t smile. She just stood there, blinking and waiting for him to start moving again so she could fall into limp step behind him. Pretty much exactly as she had done since the bandits had taken the horses and rode away. It was starting to worry Cal. It was hard to imagine anyone not wanting to go home so much that they would proposition a hardened criminal to take them too. He had to find out what was really going on, but judging from the way Katy was acting, he already knew that discussion was going to be a volatile one. He needed to get them both out of the middle of the street where half the town could overhear them. A glance down the street solved that problem neatly. The hotel they had stayed at just yesterday still had its window sign turned to vacancy.

“Come on,” he said, and caught her arm. She didn’t exactly fall into willing step with him; she just didn’t resist. He was starting to miss the prickly Katy he’d gotten used to. “A hot bath and a decent meal will do us both a world of good.”

And after that, he was going to sit Katy down and get to the bottom of exactly what was wrong. He had a feeling she wasn’t going to say anything beyond she just didn’t want to go home. Worse, if she didn’t want to
this
badly, his feeling was starting to suggest that maybe he shouldn’t be forcing the issue. But then what? What in the world was he supposed to do then? Turn a blind eye while she went back to the Abilene and danced for tips, pinches and drunken leers? Over his dead body.

Cal looked at Katy out of the corner of his eye. He had no legal right to keep her from it, but he already knew there was no way he could walk away knowing she was kicking up her legs for a bunch of horny cowboys fresh in from the range. She didn’t belong in the Abilene; Katy belonged in someone’s kitchen, in a fresh and proper calico dress and apron, with a smile on her fresh and paint-less face and a house to call her own. Maybe even with a baby or two playing at her feet. And why did the imaginary kitchen in his mind look so much like his kitchen back home?

Hell, his kitchen wasn’t even finished yet! He didn’t even have a stove.

Shaking his head at himself, he started across the street toward the hotel. Halfway to the other side, he felt a hesitant touch at his fingers and looked down just as Katy slipped her hand into his. She looked miserable, but wouldn’t meet his eyes. He gave her fingers a comforting squeeze, and they continued the rest of the way hand in hand.

Katy stood quietly at his side while he checked them in with the surprised proprietor.

“I thought you left on the stage,” the man said.

“So did we,” was all Cal offered by way of explanation. “Could we get a hot bath and a meal sent up.”

“Certainly. You can even have the same room, if you like.”

Feeling movement at his side, Cal looked to Katy but she had already started towards the stairs. She trudged, seeming both tired and sore as she headed up to the second floor. “I guess that’ll be fine.”

“Fifteen minutes?” the proprietor guessed. “Or would twenty be more appropriate?”

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