Masked Cowboy (Men of the White Sandy) (29 page)

Mary Beth didn’t panic. All of her energy was focused on getting her knife out of the waistband and in front of her. Buck’s last pass left his right arm fully extended, leaving his chest wide open. Mary Beth lurched forward and drove her knife deep into his chest as she fell on top of him.

Air rushed out of Buck’s nose and chest.
Punctured a lung
, her brain coolly assessed as she scrambled to get off of him and away from that horrid smell that permeated him.

But he wasn’t dead. His knife still in his right hand, he grabbed the back of her hair with his left and, grunting in pain, stood. “You can’t kill me. I’m the—”

“Yeah, I got it, you sicko. You’re the
Waka Sica
.” She tried to twist out of his hand. It didn’t work—her feet were a good six inches from the ground. She knew she should be terrified, but there was no fear, only the rebellious smart mouth that had gotten her this far in life. “You shouldn’t have drunk the Kool-Aid, Buck. You’ve gone completely round the bend.”

Buck grinned demonically at her, his mouth filled with blood. “Say goodbye to that albino” he sprayed into her face, “because she’s the last thing you’re going to see.”

“Gee, and miss your pretty mug? What a disappointment, Buck. I would have given you a whole thirty-five cents for that mask. A definite improvement over what you’ve got going on here.” A strange humming surrounded her. Her hair—the pieces he wasn’t holding—felt like it was standing on end.
This must be it
, she thought, although the idea didn’t seem to bother her as much as it should. She was distracting him. Jacob would come—he
had
to. Jacob would save Kip. That’s what mattered.

Mary Beth had never seen a face as contorted as Buck’s was as he went apoplectic with rage. “I’m going to eat your liver for—”

The door to the small house flew open, and there stood Jacob, his weapons drawn.
Oh, thank God
.

Buck barely hesitated a second before he spun, holding his knife against Mary Beth’s throat. The pressure of the blade hurt, but the rest of her skin seemed to be crackling.

“Good. Excellent,” Buck said with a sneer. “You’re just in time to see me kill her, and then I’m going to take your other eye, and your lips, and your ears, Plenty Holes. I’m going to leave you so many holes, they’re going to have to come up with a new name for you.”

Jacob looked frozen somewhere between terror and fury. His eyes flicked down to the bloodstains, over to Kip and back to Mary Beth’s face. He took a step back and away from the door. “No,” he whispered, his eyes wide with fear.

“Oh, yes.” Buck laughed. “That’s right, just like last time when I cut that bitch Susan’s throat. Remember? The blood sprayed all over you and you screamed like a girl. You couldn’t save her then and you can’t save them now. Not this time, No Nose. This time, I win.”

“Let her go and you can have me,” he demanded, strong and weak at the same time.

“I’ll take you both,” Buck replied as he began to draw the blade slowly across Mary Beth’s throat.

As she felt the blood gush down her neck, Mary Beth tried to scream. Nothing came out before she saw white.

Then the darkness took her.

Chapter Seventeen

“Good. Excellent.” Buck was completely unafraid of the gun Jacob had drawn. And why should he be? He had Mary Beth by the throat, a huge knife digging into her skin. “You’re just in time to see me kill her, and then I’m going to take your other eye, and your lips, and your ears, Plenty Holes. I’m going to leave you so many holes, they’re going to have to come up with a new name for you.”

No.
No
. This was not happening, not again. His eye flicked down to the bloodstains, over to Kip and back to Mary Beth’s face. “No.” His voice wasn’t working right. He sounded scared, even to his own ears.

Maybe because he was. He’d thought the last time had been a nightmare? This was worse. A hundred times worse.

“Oh, yes.” Buck laughed. “That’s right, just like last time when I cut that bitch Susan’s throat. Remember? The blood sprayed all over you and you screamed like a girl. You couldn’t save her then and you can’t save them now. Not this time, No Nose. This time, I win.”

“Let her go and you can have me.” Anything to save them. He couldn’t lose Mary Beth. He’d given her a piece of him that was too big. Without her, he’d never be whole again.

“I’ll take you both.” Buck drew the blade across Mary Beth’s throat, sending a stream of blood onto the floor.

In that instant, Jacob didn’t think, because thinking was a death sentence. Before he could make sense of the movement, he leveled his gun at Buck’s face and pulled the trigger. The room shook with the sound of the explosion.

What was left of Buck staggered back and collapsed on the floor, pulling Mary Beth with him. Her blood spurted across the room as she fell onto Buck in a heap.
So much blood
. The unreal déjà vu of the whole thing had him paralyzed. How could this be happening again?

Then Kip let out an ear-piercing scream that broke through Jacob’s dumbstruck horror.

No, this wasn’t the same. He’d shot Buck, by God—if he could, he’d shoot him again. Although, given the way his face had collapsed into a red pulp, Jacob doubted he’d need to pull the trigger a second time.

His feet spun out from under him as he scrambled down to Mary Beth. Jesus, so much blood. Then he heard the sweetest sound—she sucked in a breath. It was wet and sloppy and half-strangled sounding, but it was a breath and she was breathing.

He had to stop the bleeding.

“Jesus,” was all he could say as he held her throat together, only vaguely aware that he was sobbing. Blood gushed out from between his fingers. He needed something else to try and stop the bleeding.

The vet packs. She’d thrown them back on Jezebel before they’d ridden hell for leather. “Kip!” The little girl let out an agonizing scream again, but he didn’t have time for the mother of all flashbacks. “Kip, get over here. Hold her neck!”

The girl looked at Buck—that was something—but the horror in her eyes wasn’t helping anyone. “Honey, don’t look at him. Look at me. Now
move
!”

That got through to her. She skittered around Buck, his own pool of blood spreading out from where his head used to be. “Hold her head like this, honey. Real tight. Whatever you do, don’t let go. Okay?”

He thought she whimpered, but he didn’t have time to wonder at that. He struggled to his feet with Mary Beth in his arms, moving slow enough that Kip could keep up with him—could keep her head from doing things he didn’t even want to think about.

The three of them straggled out of the house. Jacob didn’t see the horses—the gunshot must have scattered them. Damn it. He let out a long whistle, which made Mary Beth jerk a little in his arms. “Hold on,” he told both her and Kip as the horses came walking up.

He laid Mary Beth down on the ground as Kip held her neck. “Hold on,” he repeated, almost like it was a mantra.
Holding
, he thought as he let her go.
Keep holding
.

He ripped the packs off Jezebel and began frantically digging for the gauze and the suture pack.

“Dear God in Heaven,” he prayed, his voice raw with pain, “please.”
Please let her live. Please let this work. Please don’t take her from me—from us. Please.

Hastily, he wrapped her neck in at least twenty layers of gauze and bandages. Finally, he took a layer of bandages and wrapped her head to her chest. Underneath the gauze, she moaned. God, he hoped he hadn’t screwed that up. “Don’t you dare give up on me,” he told her as he hefted her up again. “Not going down without a fight, babe.”

Now he had to get her out of here. “Kip, up,” was all he said as he lifted the little girl onto Jezebel. Shit, what was the best way to do this? He didn’t think Kip could help hold Mary Beth up for the ride back and he didn’t think he could hold Mary Beth still while he tied her to the saddle by himself, and he damn sure didn’t want to flop her over Mick’s haunches like she’d already died. That’d put too much stress on her neck. What the fuck was he supposed to do?

Then he heard it—hoof beats coming in fast from the south. “Jacob?” a voice shouted. “Where are you?”

Rebel—and with him, Nobody. “Here!” he shouted, his voice growing hoarse. “Here! She’s hurt. He cut her throat!”

The two men rode out of the shadows, dismounting before their horses had stopped.

“Buck—all along,” he said.

“Where?” Nobody’s voice was a thing of pure hate.

“Dead. Shot him in the face. When he cut her.” Jacob lifted Mary Beth, just a little. “We need help.” His throat caught and he was, once again, aware that he was crying.

Rebel pulled—was that a walkie-talkie? Yes, it was. He pushed a button. “Madeline, neck wound. Serious. We’ll be there in half an hour.”

“Who?” Dr. Mitchell’s voice crackled on the other end.

“Mary Beth.” Without waiting for a response, he shoved the walkie-talkie back into his pocket. “Give her to me. Get up behind the saddle. I’ll hand her up to you, we’ll tie her on, and I’ll ride back with Kip. Nobody, give me a hand.”

Nobody nodded. Jacob climbed up behind Mick’s saddle, then Rebel and Nobody got Mary Beth’s legs over the horn and up into Jacob’s arms. They lashed her feet to the stirrups. “Hold her tight,” Rebel said.

Like he wouldn’t. Jacob tucked her head down so it wouldn’t bounce. Rebel swooped Kip off of Jezebel and onto his horse, and then he and Jacob were gone.

They couldn’t go fast enough.

Mary Beth saw the little house with the bloodstained floor and the bleeding people. Everything happened out of order—one minute, Jacob was bursting in, already wearing the mask. The next minute, the dead people were eating dinner, their necks already slit. Except this time, Mary Beth was sitting at the table with them.
Where’s Kip
? she tried to ask the dead people, but her throat wasn’t working. She reached up to touch it and felt the huge slit.
Crap, am I dead too? Where is Kip? God, let her still be safe
.

Wait—I’ve had this dream before
.
Just a dream
, Mary Beth tried to tell herself as the swish of a knife blade passed close to her ears.
Bad dream. Not real. Wake up. Wake up
now.

But she didn’t. Instead, Kip appeared inside the dream—floated really. She seemed older—different.
Smiling
, Mary Beth realized. Looking around. Looking normal.

Okay, this
has
to be a dream. Time to wake up
.

That direct order to her brain had usually worked in the past, but something wasn’t right about this particular dream. No matter how hard Mary Beth tried to move or talk or do something that would startle her awake, nothing happened.

Kip floated over to her. At some point, the table and the dead people eating dinner and the little house full of bloodstains disappeared and it was just Mary Beth and Kip, who was looking almost unearthly.

Smiling a serene smile, Kip reached up and put her hand on Mary Beth’s throat. The flesh under her fingertips began to burn and itch.

What are you doing?
Her mouth still wasn’t working, but she thought it all the same. She tried to rip the fingers away, but Kip held tight.
Stop! Stop, please
!

The heat burned away the itch, leaving only a shining pain that cut clear across her throat and radiated up to her eyeballs and down to her lungs.

Stop, please stop
, she begged, clawing at the hand.

Standing on her tiptoes, Kip kissed her forehead and was gone.

“Stop, please stop,” she begged, but the words wouldn’t form.

“Mary Beth, you calm down this instant, or you’re going to get another sedative,” Mom warned.

Mom
? The momentary confusion distracted her from the pain.

“I think she heard you,” another female voice—maybe Madeline, the doctor on the rez? Mary Beth wasn’t sure. “Her heart rate’s dropped back down a bit.”

“Mary Beth, pumpkin, you’re okay. You are still alive, okay? You just need to rest. You are still alive.”

Mary Beth began to relax, and the pain eased. Mom was here. Mom would make everything better, and she was still alive. The thought was comforting and familiar.

She was still alive.

At least she wasn’t still at that table with all the dead people, but Mary Beth wasn’t anywhere, as far as she could tell. And it was getting on her nerves.

Lost without an anchor to any firm reality, Mary Beth began to doubt that she’d really heard Mom. Perhaps she’d just hallucinated Mom out of desperation for something comforting.

Just when she thought she was going to finally go completely mad, a voice cut through the space. “Mrs. Hofstetter, is it? How is she?” The nowhere got farther away, leaving her in a hazy darkness. She felt like she could almost feel her body but not quite.

That sounded like Jacob, except that the voice seemed worried. The combination sounded off—almost foreign. Mary Beth tried to open her eyes, or blink, or do something, but nothing happened and the effort tired her.

“She’s still alive.” Mom again. And she was still alive. Mary Beth tried to sigh in relief, but nothing happened. “And you are?”