Rachel Donnelly (15 page)

Christie drew back with a gasp.

Billy laughed loudly, causing a few beans to drip down his chin. “Cecil has a partiality for ears.”

Cecil reached out again to test the other lobe.

This time, she sat perfectly still, not daring to protest in case some disagreement ensued. She wasn’t willing to risk her supper over a harmless fetish.

Cecil gave the other lobe a soft squeeze then stood looking at her with his mouth agape.

“Leave her be,” Bill roared. “She ain’t no pet.”

“I just like lookin’ at her.”

“You act like you never saw a woman before.”

“I ain’t never seen one that looked like that. She don’t seem real.”

“A mountain lion don’t seem real ’til you get your fingers near its mouth.”

Christie regarded the pair of them, relishing the thought of sinking her teeth into their tough sun-burnt hides. But she concentrated on eating her beans instead.

She’d barely taken a few mouthfuls when Billy started licking his plate. He gave a loud belch before dropping it at Cecil’s feet. “You better tie her up when she’s done. I got some scoutin’ to do.”

Christie felt giddy to see him go. She didn’t care if Cecil tied her up or not. At least he only touched her ears.

When they finished their meal of beans and biscuits, she offered to help Cecil wash up.

He sent her a suspicious sidelong glance. “Alright, but when we’re done, I’m gonna have to tie you up like Billy said.”

She scrambled to her feet to begin gathering up the dirty plates.

Cecil grabbed the skillet, then they headed for the river. But halfway there he stopped and turned, waggling one long finger at her. “I hope you’re not thinkin’ of tryin’ anything. I got ears like a jackrabbit and I’m just as fast.”

She shook her head in wide-eyed innocence. When he turned back around, her gaze shifted to his horse tied to a small pine by the riverbank. Cecil’s easily distracted nature might work to her advantage, if she could just get him flustered enough to let down his guard.

She might not get far in the dark, but she’d have the advantage on horseback with no mount left behind for him to follow. By the time Billy returned, with any hope, she’d have put enough distance between them that he couldn’t catch her.

After scrubbing one plate with the tips of her fingers, she said casually, “You and your brother seem to be very close.”

“Yep, we share everything we got.”

“Is that the way it was when you robbed the post office?”

Cecil handed her another plate. “Billy takes care of the livin’ expenses, but everything else is even-stevens. We each got us a hundred dollars,” he spouted proudly. “With ten left over for supplies.”

“Mmm … that’s a lot of beans. But, I guess if you can’t trust your brother not to cheat you, you can’t trust anyone.”

Cecil fell silent, apparently considering this.

Christie finished washing the last plate before stacking it with the others. She eyed the skillet in his left hand, waiting for him to hand it to her, but to her dismay, he knelt down and began scrubbing it himself.

Damn!

It would have made the perfect weapon. She glanced over her shoulder, judging the distance between herself and the horse. She pressed her lips together, closing her eyes, then, took a long deep breath. Very slowly, she rose to her feet.

It was now or never.

She took a step behind Cecil, then, using both hands and the force of her whole body, she shoved him into the river.

The sound of his yelps and flaying made her feet fly all the faster.

She untied the horse’s reins with furious speed, then hoisted herself up in the saddle with her dress bunched up around her knees.

Two kicks and the horse shot forward.

Cecil’s hollers echoed behind her as the darkness swallowed her up.

She rode as fast as she dared, letting the horse find its way through the dark down the rough trail. But it wasn’t long before she started to worry. Though she was careful to keep the river in sight, there was a great chance her mount might stumble into a rut or a hole with only a half moon to light the way. Her nerves stretched so taunt, every snap of a twig made her start.

Soon she began to tire.

Rather than take the chance of losing her transport, she dismounted to walk and lead the horse.

After what seemed an interminable amount of time, she finally stopped to rest. She led the horse to the river where she tied his reins securely to a cottonwood to let him drink. A moment later the snap of a twig had her reaching for the reins.

She strained her ears for the crunch of footsteps.

Nothing.

A false alarm.

She dropped the reins to wade into the water, boots and all, to quench her thirst, being careful to listen between gulps. But there was only the occasional hoot from an owl.

She rolled up the sleeves of her gown to wash her arms, rubbing them vigorously.

It felt so good to rid herself of the dirt and dust, she bent her head down to splash water onto to her face.

That must have been why she didn’t hear him.

She had no time to scream.

Cruel fingers jerked her head back, twisting her hair.

A strangled cry tore from her throat as she blinked back tears of pain, attempting to focus on the angry face above.

“I got a powerful headache on account of you!” Billy’s lips twisted into a snarl. “Get movin’!” But before she could do so, he drew his hand back and slapped her so hard across the side of the face her ears rang. “I’d teach you a lesson right here if I had time, but I don’t.” The salty taste of blood trickled into the corner of her mouth as he hauled her to her feet. “The trail’s growin’ cold.”

Her pain and fear bubbled into rage. “Good! I hope he’s already swinging from a scaffold when we get to Carson City!”

“They ain’t headed for Carson, you stupid bitch! They’re headed for California.”

• • •

As they climbed higher and higher into the foothills of the Sierra Nevadas, Christie’s fears grew. The further she got from civilization — the more desperate she became. After three days, every bone in her body ached.

What if they never caught up with Nat Randall? Billy pushed on at a relentless pace, forcing them closer and closer to exhaustion with every step. Did he really know where he was going?

It was difficult to believe you could track anyone over such rugged terrain. Footprints weren’t left in granite. Perhaps he hoped to catch up with them on the other side of the mountains.

If they made it to the other side.

At times, the elevation became so steep they had to walk. It grew cold. Christie became so tired and light-headed it took a great effort just to put one foot in front of the other. By late afternoon her legs ached. The growling in her belly distracted her. She tripped, stumbling forward to smash her knees against a rock.

“Damn, you’re clumsy!” Billy grabbed her by the hair of the head to jerk her to her feet.

Pain shot through her head like a blinding fire.

Something snapped.

As soon as his hand left her, she whirled around, fists flailing. She couldn’t help a grim satisfied smile when her knuckles connected with the side of his face. “Don’t touch me again!”

He slapped her so hard, the blow sent her stumbling back onto the rocks.

But she was so overcome with rage, she barely noticed the pain in her hip or the blood dripping where her tooth punctured her lip. She came to her feet with a snarl, hands outstretched like cat claws, ready to tear his face to ribbons.

He caught her by the wrists, but not before one sharp nail raked down the side of his cheek. His outraged howl bounced off the rocky ledge above, battering her ears as she fought against the punishing grip of his hands. “You want to wrestle with old Billy?” he rasped against her ear. “Don’t you worry, we’ll wrestle tonight.”

She shrank away. The foul stench of his breath turned her stomach. Then, something in the predatory gleam in his eye and the tilt of his profile sparked her memory. At once she knew why he looked so familiar. It was him. The man she’d seen accosting Flossie in the alley. He was her old beau — the man she was so insensibly and perilously drawn to.

Why hadn’t that surfaced before?

Why hadn’t she recognized him?

Terror must have clouded her brain.

Gad!

She’d acted as Flossie’s confidante — attempting to comfort and counsel her. She’d advised Flossie to keep silent. Now here she was, fending off his lascivious assault.

A bubble of hysteria rose in her breast.

But fear pushed it down.

She attempted to twist from his grasp, but with little effect.

His fingers bit cruelly into her arms. His face swam so close, she could see the menacing glitter in his green eyes. He pulled her closer, attempting to plant a wet kiss on her lips.

But she moved her head in time.

He only managed to graze her cheek.

He laughed wickedly. “I reckon you’ll feel different after we get better acquainted.” He released her abruptly, then gave her a shove on the back with the palm of his hand. “Get movin’! We best catch up with Cecil before he gets us lost.”

Christie forced herself forward, trembling with shock and exhaustion. Her legs shook so badly, she feared they might collapse beneath her. But Billy’s threat kept her going. She’d claw her way up the side of the mountain to keep him from touching her again.

The blazing sun caused Billy to suffer headaches, starting early in the day, ending in debilitating pain each night. It had saved her thus far. But today she’d heard no such complaints.

The sun sank lower.

And with it, any hopes of escape.

A loud explosion ripped the air.

Cecil’s hat sailed skyward to land on the rocks behind him.

“Holy shit!” He stared at the bullet hole burnt in the top of his hat. Then he clapped a hand to his head, as if checking to see if it was still there.

“Get down!” Billy yanked Christie behind a big craggy rock on the opposite side of the trail.

His horse squealed in fright, almost jerking the reins from his hands.

Christie fought his grip as hard as the horse, then ducked as another shot rang out.

Sweet mother of God!

Had she survived this long — only to be killed in an ambush?

She could hear Billy’s heavy breath from where he crouched next to her in the dirt. The sour smell of his sweat made her heart thump wilder than the whine of the bullets. Her skin crawled like a nest of spiders at the memory of his touch. Faced with the prospect of being shot by the ambushers or raped by him later, didn’t leave much hope.

She licked her dusty lips, eyeing the bowie knife in the leather sheath at his side. The sight of the weapon so close made her palms itch. Just one moment — one small distraction. That’s all she needed. She’d stick that knife clear through his empty heart.

Another shot echoed close by.

Christie covered her head with her hands, sinking lower against the rock.

One murderer at a time. It would be wiser to let the Everetts take care of the ambushers before she gave into her own blood-lust.

“Give it up, Billy!” A voice called from the other side of the rise.

Christie bit her lip hard, hope rushing through her.

She knew that voice.

Billy giggled like a deranged schoolboy. “Well, ain’t that lucky! Our search has come to an end.” He drew back the hammer of his pistol and smiled, then hollered back, “Hand over Hank and we’ll be on our way!”

A shot ricocheted off a rock, inches from his head.

He cursed under his breath. “I got something you might want,” he called again. “She’s a little dirty, but no worse for the wear.”

Silence.

A few small rocks tumbled over the ridge.

Billy and Cecil exchanged nervous glances.

Christie’s heart pounded so fast, she could almost hear the blood rushing in her veins.

Billy tried again. “What do you say, Randall? Do you want your pretty little witness? Or do I shoot her right here?”

Christie’s blood froze.

• • •

Nat’s gaze narrowed over the sights of his rifle. He could pick Cecil Everett off like a can on a fence. His gaze shifted back to where Billy’s Colt peeked over the big chunk of granite. If he squinted real hard, he could just make out a swatch of pink on the other side of the rock.

Damn!

He’d asked the sheriff to speak to her uncle and warn him what danger she was in.

Hell!

He’d insisted on it.

He should have put her on an eastbound stage himself.

Son of a bitch!

He couldn’t believe this was happening. Not that he should be surprised. She’d been a pain in his backside ever since he’d set eyes on her.

Holt crept up beside him, reeking of the piñon he’d been crouching behind. “Well? What do you want to do?”

Nat let out a low groan of frustration.

“I was afraid you were going to say that.”

“Get Hank.”

“I’ve got a clear shot of Cecil from up on that ridge,” Holt said. “If I skirt around the other side, I can shoot his feet right out from under him.”

“Too risky.” Christie might get hurt. And when this was over, he wanted her alive so that he could shake some sense into her.

“If you keep Billy occupied,” Holt continued in low tones. “She could make a run for it.”

“No.” The mountain was too steep. She could slip and break her neck. “We’ll make the exchange.”

“If we let them slide this time, they’ll be clear to the Mexican border before we catch up with them again.”

Holt was right. But there was only one thing he could do. “Cover me. Just give me enough time to get her out.”

Holt gave a low grunt as he moved away, his usual comment of disapproval when they disagreed.

Holt was a crack shot. He could blow the buttons off a coat at twenty paces. Nat had no doubt of his ability. Billy was the wild card in this game. If anything should happen to his brother, things wouldn’t go well for Christie.

“Hold your fire!” Nat called down.

A few moments later, he heard Hank’s laughter behind him. “Woman trouble? Ain’t that a shame.”