River Song (8 page)

"That's good. That's real good," the outlaw remarked lustily. Then he took a few steps back and picked up the coils of rope he'd left at the edge of the campsite. When he returned to the pair, he tossed two short lengths to Sunny. "Be a good little
injun
and tie your friend up for me," he ordered harshly.
"Hands behind his back, legs at the ankles."

Realizing that for the first time since she'd left her mother's home she was in real
danger,
Sunny shook off a cold shiver and got to her knees. She began to bind Cole's hands, careful to leave the coils loose enough for him to maneuver out of them, when the barrel of the rifle suddenly cracked against the side of her head.

"Nice and tight, honey. We don't want your friend
interruptin
' us, now do we?"

Wincing in pain, Sunny refused to give the outlaw satisfaction by bringing her hand to the lump forming on her scalp. With a burst of anger, she yanked the loops tighter and twisted the ends into a knot, then moved down to Cole's ankles and performed the same task.

When she finished, the outlaw reached down, grabbing the back of her shirt, and jerked her to her feet. "That's real good, honey."

Terrified, but with her Irish eyes flashing defiance, Sunny got her first good look at the man. Not much taller than she, he was thick and barrel-chested with the flat cold eyes of a rattlesnake. Stubbles of a week-old beard poked out of his puffy cheeks, and strands of silver popped through the muddy brown hairs. Sunny grimaced when his sour breath reached her nose. He smelled of whiskey and rotted vegetables, sweat and damp rawhide.

"You're gonna have to wait a bit for your reward, squaw," he said with a throaty chuckle. "I got to collect my horse and gear."

Moving quicker than she imagined he was capable of, the man grabbed her hands and bound her wrists together. Leading her by a long length of rope, they walked past Cole's head to a nearby mesquite tree. Pulling her hands over her head, the man looped the rope over the tallest branch and tied a knot at the base of the tree.

"Now you just stand there and think of all the fun we're gonna have, honey." He turned to walk away,
then
suddenly pivoted. "Say, where's the gun, squaw?"

"Gun?" she squeaked out.

"Yeah, gun. You know—bang, bang, you're dead? I heard the shot from your camp, brought me to you like one of your smoke signals." Bellowing an ugly laugh, he turned his rattlesnake eyes on Cole. "I see he ain't
wearin
'
no
gun. He ain't hardly
wearin
'
nuttin
'."

Cole had spent the minutes since Sunny tied him searching the sand for that very item, and had discovered the butt of his Colt poking out from under the bedroll not three inches from his head. Thinking quickly, he explained, "I lost my gun several miles down the trail. You heard my rifle when I shot at a coyote. It's over by my saddle."

"Rifle, huh? Didn't sound like
no
rifle to me."

The skeptical outlaw scoured the campground for the weapon, and dug through Cole's saddlebags, but found only the rifle. Taking the Winchester with him, he disappeared into the bushes at the edge of the campsite.

Cocking his head until he could look up into Sunflower's eyes, Cole whispered, "Can you get loose?"

"I'm trying," she answered quietly, "but my hands are swollen."

"Damn," he muttered under his breath. "Keep trying. I'll think of something in the meantime."

He glanced at her silhouette, illuminated by the moonlight as she struggled against her bonds, and cursed his negligence. How could he have been blindsided, and because of an Indian squaw of all people?

Disgusted with himself, Cole snapped at her, "You did a hell of a job tying me up. You have a better chance of getting free than I do."

Sunny nodded, renewed her efforts,
then
glanced toward the bushes where the outlaw had disappeared. "And if I
do,
what then? I think this man means to kill us."

"Not as long as I can draw a breath, he won't. If you manage to get free before I do, the gun is under the blanket by my chin. Do you know how to use it—
really
use it?"

Hearing the stranger's approach, Sunny kept her silence and gave him a short nod.

Satisfied she could handle the
pistol,
Cole eased his head back down on the blanket and watched the outlaw tie his scraggly mount next to Sage.

"Nice horse you got here, mister. Damn fine animal." He swaggered past the fire and headed for the mesquite tree, taunting Cole as he walked by him, "What do you say to a little swap? Sound fair? It does to me," he rambled on to his silent prisoner. "Yep, I think that's exactly what I'll do."

When he reached Sunny, he stood before her, eyeing her from head to toe. "Let's see what kind of swap you and
me
can cook up, honey," he threatened before he planted a wet sloppy kiss on her mouth.

When his fat, slimy lips touched hers, Sunny jerked her knee up and drove it into the man's groin.

"Shit, oh ...
shit,"
he groaned, grabbing his crotch as he staggered backwards. "You rotten little
bitch
,"
he managed to add, the words strangling in his throat as he fell to his knees and rested, panting between groans.

After he recovered enough to move again, the outlaw lurched to his feet and began to stalk her. His features twisted in a murderous rage, he raised his thick arm high above his head.
"You stupid, stupid bitch."

Then he whipped his open palm across the side of her face with enough force to knock Sunny off her feet.

"Think you're a real wildcat, huh?" he bellowed.
"You miserable excuse for a half-breed whore.
I'm just the man to take all the fight out of you. When I'm done with you, you won't have the strength to feed yourself."

Stunned by the blow, Sunny hung by her wrists until the man untied the rope.
Then she dropped to the ground. Grabbing her shoulders, the man pulled her to her feet and gave her a vicious shove towards the fire. "Go rustle me up some grab, squaw. Then I'll be happy to show you how a real man tames a no-good savage."

Disoriented, Sunny stumbled and nearly fell several times as she crossed the opening. When she reached Cole's saddlebags, she thought of digging deep and retrieving her grandfather's war club, but the click of the hammer on the stranger's gun pushed the thought from her mind. She would have her chance. She would
make
her chance.

Thick cords stood out along the sides of Cole's neck as he fought to keep his temper and struggled to remain silent. Watching the outlaw strike Sunflower sent a burst of white-hot anger coursing through him, tensed his entire body, and paled the skin on his knuckles the way the desert sun blanched the skull of a dead steer. Disregarding the pain of skin rubbed raw by his bindings, Cole worked at loosening the ropes. He couldn't take much more, couldn't bear to witness the next chapter in the man's plans for Sunflower. Somehow, he would break free. Then, if he had to, he would kill the bastard with his bare hands.

Sunny hung her head low, her eyes cast to the ground as she served the outlaw a supper of leftover rabbit, some jerky, and a couple of biscuits.

"That's better," the stranger growled. He waved her away with his pistol. "Go sit across from me where I can keep an eye on you."

Obediently, Sunny sidestepped the campfire and sank cross-legged into the soft sand. She watched the man stuff the food in his mouth and wash it down with a swig of whiskey, and wondered how she might gain an advantage over this cunning animal. Would he drink enough poteen to slow his responses? Or would she have to pretend to submit to this disgusting creature and wait for him to lose control, as she'd tried to do with Cole?

She glanced over at the blond rancher, warming inside in spite of her predicament, and picked out the gleam of his watchful eyes. She gave him a shy smile,
then
dropped her gaze to the sand. It wouldn't be the same with this ugly beast. She didn't need experience to know that this man could never make her feel the way Cole had, to know that instead of setting her on fire with longings and pleasures she didn't understand, this stranger's touch would make her wither inside—make her wish she were dead.

"Toss me that there pouch of tobacco, woman," the whiskey voice bellowed.

Startled, Sunny scrambled over near Cole's saddle,
then
threw the bundle across the fire.

The outlaw held the pouch near the flames and read the inscription on the canvas bag.
"Bull Durham, huh?"
He turned his gaze on Cole. "Mighty fancy smokes
ya
got here, fellah. Mind if I have one?" But he turned his back to the prisoner, not interested in his response. "I didn't think you would," he said with a hoarse laugh.

Guessing the time in which to save
herself
was running short, Sunny desperately searched her mind for a way to disarm or disable the man. If she moved without his permission, she had no doubt he'd shoot her on the spot. What ploy could she use to get up and walk around the campsite?

Unwittingly, the outlaw provided one for her. "Let's have a better look at you, squaw. Stand up and walk around to the front of the fire."

Taking a deep drag on his cigarette as she followed his directions, the outlaw peered at her through rings of blue-white smoke. "Damn half-breed, all right. Do you even know the name of the bull that sired
ya
?"

Her heart pounding in her throat, Sunny bit her bottom lip and slowly shook her head.

"Didn't think so," he grunted with a disgusted sneer. "The only thing your kind is good for is a little relief at the end of the trail. Then—" He pointed the pistol at her head and made a popping sound with his mouth. Laughing, he looked back at Cole. "You don't mind if I pick up where you left off with the little gal, do you?" Again swiveling back to the fire, he grunted, "I didn't think you would."

Measuring the distance between
herself
and the man, Sunny took a tentative step in his direction. "I am good for much more than that," she promised. "If you will take me with you, I can make your journey very pleasurable."

"Yeah?
What can a half-breed whore do for me except slow me down?"

Sunny swallowed the lump in her throat before she answered. "Besides warming your bed at night, I can cook for you."

"Cook for me?" he snorted. "If
them
biscuits are your idea of
cookin
', I'm better off
chokin
' down cactus needles."

"M-maybe I could—"

"Shut up, woman. I don't want to listen to your yammering. I want a look at you. Take off your clothes."

Sunny bit her bottom lip again, this time hard enough to bring the salty taste of her own blood to her mouth. With a terrified glance in Cole's direction, she brought trembling fingers to the knot in her shirt and slowly began to untie it.

The look on Sunflower's face was too much for Cole.

Swearing hotly under his breath, he jerked and twisted his hands, caring little if he tore off his fingers in his efforts to save her from the ultimate indignity. Sunflower's expression showed him much more than her terror. She had a look of innocence, of an almost virginal fear of what was about to happen. With a great effort, he jackknifed to his knees, still twisting his raw and bleeding hands against the bindings.

Then everything seemed to happen at once.

Her shirt removed, it dangled in Sunny's hand as she took a couple of bold steps towards the man. Her head held high, her eyes cold and hard, she arched her back and presented her upturned breasts for his inspection.