Lorraine Heath (33 page)

Rawley listened to the words. He wanted to take himself away to that place inside his head where nothing could hurt him.

But he knew if he did … his pa would kill the lady.

The picnic had been Rawley’s idea.

“A way to make you happy,” he’d said shyly, eyes downcast.

Cordelia should have known then that something was wrong, but she was too wrapped up with thoughts of leaving Dallas. Rawley had told her that he knew of a perfect place for a picnic, a place Dallas had shown him.

That should have tipped her off as well. Rawley always referred to Dallas as Mr. Leigh.

In retrospect, she could see that he had given her clues, small hints that something was amiss.

But it wasn’t until they had sat on the quilt to enjoy the food—not until the riders arrived and Rawley’s eyes brimmed with tears and he refused to look at her—that she came to understand the true reason behind his suggestion for a picnic.

Cordelia glared at her captor. He snatched the paper from beneath her hands and held it toward the light of the lantern. “Good, good, you wrote just what I said.”

She wondered if he could read, if he did indeed know that she had written his words exactly as he’d spoken them. She wished she hadn’t written them at all.

She glanced at Rawley, her sole reason for doing as Cooper instructed.

Within the shed, he sat on a wooden crate. Unmoving. His hands folded in his lap, a grown-up posture out of place on a little boy. He seemed to be staring at the flame quivering in the lantern, only the flame, nothing else … as though he wished there were nothing else.

As though staring at the lantern, holding himself perfectly still, would make the gun pressed against his temple go away.

“Well?” the man holding the gun asked.

Rawley’s father nodded. “Go ahead.”

Before Cordelia could react, the man pulled the trigger. She screamed as a resounding click echoed around the room.

Rawley’s father laughed. “You lucked out again, Rawley.”

He drew his hand back and slapped Rawley across the face. Rawley staggered off the box and hit the floor.

“No!” Cordelia cried as she hurried to the corner and took Rawley into her arms. He was shaking as though he’d been dunked into an icy river.

“He didn’t feel it,” his father cackled. “He’s tetched in the head; goes someplace far away. He ain’t smart like me.” He pointed to his temple. “Now, me, I’m a thinkin’ man. Always thinkin’.” He knelt and brought his abhorrent body odor with him. “Know what I’m thinkin’?”

Cordelia gathered her strength around her as she tucked Rawley more closely against her. “It doesn’t matter what you’re thinking.”

“He’ll come, and when he does I’ll kill him.”

“Why? You’ll have the money—”

“I told you I’m a thinkin’ man. Your brother paid me to kill him, but I’m thinkin’—Dallas Leigh ain’t gonna be an easy man to kill. He’ll fight.

“Then I get to thinkin’, Dallas Leigh thinks he’s smart. Thinks I’m dumb. So I think to myself, I’ll kidnap his wife. Make him bring me money. Then I’ll kill him. I get money from him. I get money from your brother.”

“Dallas won’t come. He’s not a man to trade something for nothing. He wants a son which I can’t give him. With my death, he will gain an opportunity to marry a woman who can give him a son.”

Rawley’s father stood. “You’d better pray he does come ’cuz if he don’t come”—he raked his gaze over her body and Cordelia forced herself not to shudder—“I know lots of men what would pay to spend time with you, just like they paid me to spend time with that boy’s ma.”

“That boy? You mean Rawley? You sold your wife—”

“She weren’t my wife. She was a squaw I found.” He tapped his temple. “Told you I’m a thinkin’ man. Took her in, made a lot of money off her till she died. Give her boy my name, but I don’t imagine I’m his pa. He ain’t nearly as good-looking as I used to be. And you’ll be better than she was ’cuz I won’t have to worry about you leaving me any worthless brats.”

Dallas stared through the window of his office as darkness settled around him … along with the loneliness. He’d never before experienced loneliness, perhaps because he’d never understood companionship: the comfort of knowing someone was willing to listen to his thoughts, the joy of sharing something as simple as watching the stars appear within the velvety sky.

He wanted Dee to be in his office now, curled up in her chair discussing her ideas, her plans. But she hadn’t come to his office since she’d had the confrontation with Boyd.

He crumpled the note she’d left him on the dining-room table.

Rawley and I have gone on a picnic.

Only a few months before, she might have invited him to join them. Now, she didn’t even want his company when she rode into town to check on her hotel.

They had become strangers.

After her accident, he had been afraid to sleep in her bed, fearful of hurting her. With each passing day, a chasm had widened between them, a chasm he had no earthly idea how to close.

He wondered if she would even come home tonight. She had begun to spend more nights at the hotel. He bent his head until his chin touched his chest. Damn, he missed her, and he didn’t know how to get her back.

Her smiles for him had disappeared, along with her laughter. Sometimes, he would hear her chuckle at something Rawley said. He’d hoard the moment as though it were for him, knowing full well that it wasn’t.

It seemed that the night they had lost their son, whatever tender feelings she might have had for Dallas had perished as well. How could he blame her? He hadn’t been there to protect her. He had been as useless as a dry well.

He heard the galloping hooves and looked up in time to see the rider bring his arm back. The window shattered as a rock sailed through it.

What the hell?

He found the rock, untied the string that surrounded it, and unfolded the note. He recognized Dee’s flowing script long before he saw her signature.

Sitting at his desk, he turned up the flame in the lamp. He read the note a dozen times. The words remained the same, chilling him to the bone.

He planted his elbows on the desk and buried his face in his hands, digging his fingers into his brow. Christ, he didn’t know what to do.

The well on the north end was visible for miles—as was everything around it. If anyone followed him to offer assistance, whoever waited at the well would see him.

If Dallas held his silence, told no one about the ransom note, brought no one with him …

He sighed heavily. He’d probably viewed his last sunset, already regretting that he hadn’t taken the time to appreciate it, for he had little doubt that a bullet would be waiting for him beside the well.

Dallas pounded on the door until the hinges rattled.

The door opened slightly, and Henderson peered out into the darkness. “Good God, Dallas, your wife didn’t ask for a loan today.”

“I know that. I need a thousand dollars—cash.”

“Come see me at eight when I open the bank.”

He started to close the door, and Dallas slammed his hand against it. “Now. I need it now.”

“For what?”

“Business. You can charge me double the interest on it.”

Henderson scurried outside, and Dallas followed him down the steps. As Henderson fumbled with the keys, Dallas refrained from grabbing them and shoving them into the locks himself.

When Henderson turned the key on the last lock, he glanced over his shoulder at Dallas. “You stay here while I get the money.”

Nodding, Dallas handed him the saddlebag. “Make sure it’s exact.”

As Henderson disappeared into the building, Dallas walked to the edge of the boardwalk and gazed toward the end of town where Dee’s hotel stood before turning his attention to the sheriff’s office. He toyed with the idea of waking the sheriff as well, of explaining the situation to him in case Dee didn’t return home tomorrow. But if Cooper didn’t release Dee, what difference would anyone knowing make? None at all.

He glanced back at the hotel, and the pride swelled within him. The Grand Hotel. She had envisioned it and turned it into reality. He couldn’t remember if he’d ever told her how proud he was to have had her at his side.

For a man who thought he’d lived his life by side-stepping regrets, he suddenly discovered that he had left a great many things undone.

Dallas arrived at the well an hour before the sun shone directly overhead. The windmill clattered as the slight breeze blew across the plains. He shifted his backside over his saddle and waited.

He loved the land, the openness of it, the way it beckoned to a man. If treated right, the land returned the favor, but it couldn’t curl against a man in the dead of night. It wouldn’t warm his feet in the middle of winter.

He saw the solitary rider approaching. He wasn’t surprised that the exchange wasn’t going to take place here. Still he had hoped.

The man who neared wasn’t Cooper. Dallas had never seen the burly man before, and he hoped to never see him again.

“You got the money?” the man asked through a mouth of missing and rotting teeth.

“Yep. Where’s my wife?”

“At the camp.” The man held out a black cloth. “Put this on.”

Dallas snatched the cloth from the grimy fingers and bound it over his eyes. He wasn’t a man accustomed to playing by another’s rules, but he had no choice. He’d do whatever it took to keep Dee alive.

She’d lost their child because he’d thrown caution to the wind. He didn’t intend to be as careless this time.

The dark material muted the afternoon sun’s blinding rays, but Dallas used the intensity of the light to measure the passing of the day, to gauge the direction that they traveled: west, toward the sunset.

After what seemed hours, Satan stumbled to a stop.

“You can remove the mask now,” his captor said.

Dallas jerked off the foul-smelling cloth. His eyes needed little time to adjust as dusk was settling inside the small canyon.

His gaze quickly swept the area, registering the dangers, the risks. the terror in Dee’s eyes as she stood with her back against a tree, her arms raised, her hands tied with coarse rope to the branch hanging over her head.

Dallas dismounted, grabbed the saddlebags, and strode toward Cooper, ignoring the man’s knowing smirk, unable to ignore the whip he was trailing in the dust like the limp tail of a rattlesnake.

“Cut her loose,” Dallas ordered as he neared the loathsome man who called himself Rawley’s father, sorry to discover that he’d left too much of the man’s face intact.

Cooper spit out a stream of tobacco juice. “Not till I got the money.”

Dallas slung the bags at Cooper’s feet and stalked toward Dee.

“Stop right there or Tobias will shoot her,” Cooper snarled.

Dallas spun around. A man standing to the right of Cooper had a rifle trained on Dee. The man who had brought Dallas to the camp had dismounted and snaked an arm around Rawley, holding him close against his side, a gun pressed to the boy’s temple. Dallas would have expected fear to be hovering within Rawley’s dark eyes. Instead they only held quiet resignation. Dallas tamped down his anger. “You’ve got the money. Let them go.”

Cooper chuckled. “This ain’t just about the money. This is about what I owe you.” He snapped the whip and the crack echoed through the canyon. “My face can’t even attract a whore after what you done to it. Hurts something fierce. Figure you could do with a little hurt yourself.” His lips spread into a smile that lit his eyes with anticipation. “How many lashes you think it would take to kill her?”

Dallas took a menacing step forward.

A rifle fired.

Dee screamed.

Dallas froze. He slowly glanced over his shoulder. Dee vigorously shook her head. He could see no blood, no pain etched over her face.

“Next time, Tobias won’t miss,” Cooper said.

Swallowing hard, Dallas turned his attention back to Cooper, deciding it was time to risk everything in order to gain all. “Kill her and you’ll never get the money.”

Cooper’s laughter echoed around the canyon as he kicked the saddlebags. “You damn fool. I’ve got the money.”

“Do you?” Dallas asked.

The laughter abruptly died as Cooper dropped to his knees and flung back the flaps on the saddlebags. Frantically, he pulled out paper. Pieces and pieces of blank paper. Fury reddened his face as he glared at the man who had escorted Dallas to the camp.

“Quinn, you fool, didn’t you look in the saddlebags before you brung him out here?”

“You didn’t tell me to look in the saddlebags. You just told me to bring him.”

Cooper glowered at Dallas. “Where’s the money?”

“In a safe place. All one thousand dollars, but you don’t get it until I know Dee is safe. She leaves with me now, and I’ll bring the money back to you. Give you my word.”

“Your word. You think I’m some kinda idiot? I ain’t letting her out of my sight until I’ve got the money, and you ain’t never leaving here alive.”

“Then we can handle this another way. Take her to town, let her check into the hotel. A man is waiting there, watching for her return. When he knows she’s safe, he’ll give you the money. Meanwhile, you’ll have me as insurance.”

Cooper narrowed his eyes. “Who is it? One of your brothers?” He rubbed his jaw. “Austin. It’s gotta be Austin.”

Dallas shook his head. “Nope. Figured you’d expect it to be one of my brothers. You’d never suspect this man.”

Cooper struggled to his feet, his knuckles turning white as he clenched the whip. “You’ll tell me who has the money, by God. You’ll tell me!”

With a quick flick of his wrist, he brought the whip back and snapped it. It whistled through the air. Dee gasped as it sliced through her skirt.

“Damn you!” Dallas roared.