River Song (37 page)

"Look, Buck," Sunny said, hoping to cut off his drunken ramblings. He would never talk to her like that if he weren't so full up with whisky. Could she risk taking the time, or the chance of discovery, by handing him a lecture?

She'd said goodbye to Cole once this evening. She couldn't do it again. "I will just forget you said those things, Bucky." Winding her hair in a ball, she began to stuff it inside Mike's hat. "I have to be going now," she said, pointing an authoritative finger at his chest. "And you really ought to get back to the ranch. I imagine Nellie is wondering where you are."

Buck tore the hat from her head and grabbed a fistful of her loose hair. "As I was
saying before
I was so rudely interrupted," he growled, pulling the strands tighter. "After I had a good look at the body in them boy's clothes, I seen all this fine long hair swinging down that whelp's back." He gave the wad of hair a jerk, drawing a yelp from her.

Satisfied by her response, he grinned and went on. "So I
says
to myself, that looks a lot like Cole's
injun
whore.
Yep, I
b'lieve
that's just who it might be."

Anger and fear commanded an equal measure in Sunny's mind. But anger would cloud her judgment, and might force her into actions that would work to her disadvantage. Something besides liquor ruled Buck's mouth and mind. For her own safety, if nothing else, she had to find out what it was. Sunny pushed her bruised feelings aside.

"Well, my little trick did not work," she said as brightly as she could manage. "I should have known I could not fool a smart man like
yourself
."

Her answer baffled him at first. He dropped the length of her hair and leaned back, his eyes narrowing, then widening. Finally he grunted, "Humph. Course not. I
know'd
it was you all the time." He cocked his head to the side, never taking his yellowish eyes off her as he took another swallow of whiskey, then asked, "So why are you dressed in them duds anyway?"

Confident she'd gained an advantage over him, she searched for the right words to end the conversation. Now more than ever, she was anxious to be on her way.

"These are my traveling clothes. I am leaving now, returning to my home." She turned, dismissing him. "If you will excuse me, I must be going."

"You must?
You must?"
he bellowed. "I'll be tellin' you what you must and must not do, squaw. Hear me?"

He'd moved close enough for the odor of stale whiskey to nearly knock her off balance. Struggling for control, assuming that if she were to show Buck any sign of fear she would only agitate him further, Sunny forced herself to stand her ground.

"Sorry, Buck. I meant no disrespect."

"Yeah, of course not.
That's better." Pleased with himself, he took another swig of whiskey. "So answer me. Why are you dressed up like that?"

"I told you. These are my trail clothes. I have to be leaving."

"For good?"

Sunny nodded,
then
tried to turn back to the tack room, but Buck caught her by the shoulder and spun her back around.

"I ain't told you
you
could go yet." He jerked her closer, grabbing another length of her hair.
"Cole done with you, that it, squaw?"

Sunny hesitated, not certain which answer would give her the most protection. If she said no, Buck would probably back off, but he might also alert Cole to her plans. If she said yes, what would he do? Let her go or try to sample her himself? She measured her chances against the drunken man. Then she thought of explaining all this to Cole, of trying to say goodbye again.

She had but one choice. "If you must know, Cole has asked me to leave. If that is all," she put her hand on his, hoping to get him to release her hair, "I would really like to be on my way now."

Instead of releasing her, Buck pulled her closer and tossed the bottle of whiskey into the straw. "I figured
Fremont'd
throw you out on your ear one day," he leered, "but I didn't think it'd be so soon."

Sunny leaned her head back so far her neck ached. Still he pulled her closer. Buck's smile grew huge and goatish as he stared down at her, licking his thick, filmy lips. His eyes were glazed, glowing as if they were illuminated by the devil himself. She had to think of something, and fast.

"Buck," she
began,
her voice small and timid. "Please let me go. You are hurting me. I think I shall faint."

Sluggish laughter boomed out of him. When it subsided, he released her hair, but seized her bottom with his huge hands. Banging her slender hips roughly against his body, he growled, "Go ahead and faint if you want to. Don't matter much to me, but think
a
all the fun you'll be
missin
'."

Then he fell on her tender, unprepared mouth, bruising her, hurting her with his thick, chapped lips. He used his tongue like a battering ram, but Sunny's teeth didn't budge, wouldn't open for him.

Finally, just as she thought she really might faint from lack of oxygen, from the pungent, unnamed odors fermenting in his hot breath, Buck grew tired of his unsuccessful assault on her mouth. He abruptly released her,
then
pushed her away with a harsh shove.

"
Git
on over to that empty stall,
injun
whore.
I got a little farewell present for you." Reaching for his belt buckle, he began to stagger toward her.

Rage swelled up inside her. How could he treat her this way? Drunk or not, this, from a member of the Fremont family, was unthinkable, inexcusable. Sunny straightened her shoulders and glared across the few feet separating them.

"How dare you talk to me this
way.
You are acting like a disgusting pig, and I will see you pay for your vile behavior. Now," she spat with a toss of her head, "get out of my way."

Buck tottered, rocked on his heels, and stared at her through wide, little boy eyes. Then the wicked gleam returned and he opened his mouth to release an ugly laugh. "You know, for a minute, the way you was talking almost made me feel like I was hearing a white woman. Can you beat that?" He laughed again.
"A white woman."

His expression narrow, he took a step forward. "I guess for a minute we
both
forgot just who and what you are."

Sunny retreated, her outrage replaced by fear. She would have to change her tactics. "Buck, please listen to me." Keeping her voice low, soft, she implored, "You have had too much to drink. Just let me go on my way and we can forget this happened. I know you do not mean to act this way. Think of Nellie, of the family."

"Shut up, woman."

Buck jerked the belt from his trousers. Wrapping the length of leather around his fist, he advanced on her. "Do's your told and
everything'll
be just fine.
Now
git
in that stall."

Reasoning with the man and his whiskey was not going to work. Sunny reverted to instinct, employing her survival instincts as a guide. "Get out of my way, Buck. I mean it, or I will scream and wake the whole ranch."

"No one will hear you out here. But go head, try it," he dared, cracking the belt like a whip, "and you'll be real sorry." His laugh cruel, he added, "Not to mention, real dead."

Alarm raised the hair at her scalp. Would he go that far? Was he that drunk?

"Think, Buck," she pleaded. "I am nothing but a miserable half-breed. What do you want with me when you have a beautiful wife like Nellie to warm your bed?"

"Leave Nellie
outta
this," he spat, lurching towards her. "This got
nothin
' to do with Nell anyway.
Got to do with you,
injun
."

"Me? What have I ever done to you?"

"Nothing yet."
He laughed. "I don't know why, but I've always had this hankering for squaw meat.
Nothing sweeter than tangling with a red-skinned savage.
Nothing at all."

Tired of banter, Buck took a forward step. If he took another, she'd be trapped. She had to try something different, anything. Escape?

Using her rigid arm as a barrier between them, she tried to brush past him. But he was ready for her. Buck grabbed her wrist and twisted, then bent her elbow around behind her.

"Buck," she cried, "you're hurting me. You really are."

Ignoring her cries, he held her in this position with one hand as he wrapped the other around her neck. "If you insist on being difficult, I got no choice but to quiet you down real good. Understand?"

His fetid breath gagged her, making it impossible for her to speak. Before she could make any kind of movement, he squeezed her throat and threatened, "I could snap your neck like it was a
li'l
ole twig.
Now
do you understand?"

Sunny squeaked out a breathless, "Yes." She forced herself to go limp, feigning submission. But her mind screamed in fury and plotted her revenge. As soon as she saw an opening, no matter how narrow, she would take it. Then she would run screaming from the barn and announce to the entire ranch what he'd done. Somehow she would find a way to deal with Cole's reaction to her planned departure later. It couldn't be any worse than the mess she was in now.

When Buck realized she'd given him access to her tender body, he grunted, "That's much better." Then he released her and gave her a shove that sent her sprawling in the bedding straw. "Strip off them clothes,
injun
. I'm done with talking."

Sunny leaned forward, tried to get into a sitting position, but fell back when her grandfather's war club poked her ribs. She'd forgotten she carried the weapon.

Had she found the way to save herself from this indignity? Did she have the courage or ability to wield such a tool in a death struggle?

She glanced up at the animal bearing down on her and wavered. Could she really smash the weapon against Nellie's drunken husband? Buck wasn't in his right mind, would probably forget all that transpired here by morning. Had she considered every option open to her, short of battle?

Buck's progress stalled as he began fiddling with the buttons on his shirt. Maybe if she kept talking to him, Sunny thought without much conviction, all she'd have to endure would be his filthy words and suggestions. Although talking hadn't worked yet, surely there was a way to convince him to leave her alone without resorting to violence. Maybe if he only
thought
she had the capability to do him harm it would be enough to dissuade him. It surely deserved a try.

Sunny scrambled to her feet and pulled the club from her waistband. Careful to conceal the end with the needle-sharp spike in her fist, she issued an ultimatum. "Stop what you are doing, Buck."

He glanced up from his shirt, working to clear his vision. "Huh?"

"I do not like the things you are saying or doing, and if I have to," she waved the club through the air so he could examine the hammer end, "I will use this on you."

Again he laughed at her. This time, the sound was dark and ugly. "You
cain't
seem to understand what I'm about, can you? I'm done playing around with you, squaw," he complained as he advanced. "You stupid
injuns
are all alike.
Too damn dumb to know when a man means business."

One more step and he'd be too close to use the weapon.

"I mean business too, Buck," she warned, raising the club. "Stop now."

He shook his head and curled his lip. "If I only had my gun, I'd put a hole through you now and be done with it."