Trail of Lust (16 page)

The gang rode into the yard, the leader coming up feet from Graham. Dirt and small rocks sprayed his front, and Graham squinted to keep his eyes clear.

"We're here for a Graham Hollis!"

"That'd be me."

"Cuff him, Jenkins."

Graham's gaze shot to the man who was dismounting—a man with an ugly sneer not unlike his brother's. Before Graham had wiped it off his face, that was.

"What are you arresting him for?” Robert asked. Leave it to his father to force them to give specifics.

"He's been charged with killing Jeb Jenkins last night."

"How do you know it was him? Were there witnesses?"

A stocky man who was seated on a tall stallion spoke up. “I witnessed it."

Graham stared at him, recognizing the family resemblance between this man and the man who'd hurt Kathleen. Had the coward been lurking around when Graham killed the fucker who'd pounded on Kathleen?

A shiver of dread hit him—a blow that left him reeling. If there were more Jenkins brothers and they were in the area of the Allen ranch, then even if Graham gave himself up, Kathleen wasn't safe. Not at all.

His gaze jumped from one face in the gang to the other, trying to discern whether they were all here—all four brothers of the man he'd wiped off the earth. Hell, for all he knew, the Jenkins family was as big as the Hollises'. Sure, Graham had been raised here, but he'd also spent many years after the war absent, in more ways than in body. Before Kathleen had entered his life, he'd been a sack of clothes, a placeholder in the family. Never truly alive.

Now he was about to be hanged for keeping his wife safe.

"Pa, let them take me. I did—"

Clay struck Graham in the gut with his rifle butt, knocking the breath from him. Graham doubled over, wheezing from the shock of the hit. Stars and fury burst behind his eyes. When he got hold of that brother of his, he was gonna beat the hell out of him, even if he had just saved Graham from confessing his crime.

"What tie do you have to the man who was murdered?” Robert asked, sending Graham a sidelong glance.

"He's my—
was
my brother. I've been helping out around the Allen place with him, doing odd jobs since the old man is getting up in years."

"And you saw my son lay hands on your brother?” Robert gave him a glare that would twist most men's balls and make them climb back into their bodies.

"No, sir. I saw the grave. I dug it up and found my brother's body.” The man's face contorted with emotion.

The ache in Graham's stomach worsened. He opened his mouth to speak, but his brother jerked the rifle in a threat to knock the wind out of him again.

"You're the only one who saw this body?"

"No, I did too,” another man bearing the family resemblance said. “Perry rode straight home and got me and our other two brothers to bring Jeb home."

"And you're all here? All four remaining Jenkins?” Robert's sharp tone stressed the word “remaining,” making the stout one flinch.

The leader of the posse—an older gentleman with a grizzled white beard—spoke up. “No. Two brothers chose not to come see justice done. And justice will be done, don't get me wrong,” he said slowly. He gestured with his head to another rider. “Get the rope."

Several guns were cocked behind Graham as his family members trained their weapons on the group of riders. He didn't glance around but knew without a doubt his father, two brothers, nine cousins, and three uncles would be behind him. But Graham refused to fight this war.

Kathleen's face rose up in his mind, torturing him. If he let them take him, he'd never set eyes on her beautiful face again. Never put his arms around her. Never get a chance to confess he loved her.

He swallowed hard. And if there were still four Jenkins brothers roaming the countryside... Four too many in Graham's book. Kathleen wouldn't be safe as long as they were around. Not to mention Wabash. How many more were there? At the moment, it seemed the whole world was pressing down on Graham, trying to snuff the life from him—not his physical life, but the candle that had been lit inside him when Kathleen became part of him.

He looked around, meeting Clay's gaze. His brother stilled. An unspoken message hung in the air between them. Then Graham looked to his father.

His pa gave an imperceptible nod.

"Graham Hollis, come forward. You're going to be hanged for murder."

Without a word, Graham moved into the rope noose, which the man with the white beard immediately tightened around his throat. Graham stared at the hangman hard, daring him to push him further.

"Goddammit!” one of his cousins burst out. There was a scuffle behind Graham that led him to believe someone was shoved to keep from fighting for him. Emotion welled in him even as the coarse hemp dug into his skin. God, was this how Jenkins had felt when Graham's fingers had tightened around his throat? Like the world had gone black?

Not yet. Kathleen is still my sun.

"Boys.” His father's calm and quiet tone trickled into his consciousness as the hangman yanked Graham across the yard. He was jerked by the neck, nearly torn off his feet, but he swiftly righted himself and followed where the white-bearded man holding the rope led him. Without a doubt, he knew the way his pa had said “boys” was a warning for them to hold steady, to bide their time.

None of this was choreographed, yet Graham was certain they could pull it off. What choice did they have? Two minutes ago, he'd been prepared to swing to keep his family from becoming embroiled in this mess. Now, knowing he was the only one who could truly protect Kathleen, he was prepared to fight in any dirty, underhanded method he had within reach.

Right now, that was sixteen pissed-off Hollises.

The hangman jerked the rope relentlessly, and the coarse fibers branded Graham's neck. With every step toward the tree where he was to be hanged, Graham's tension rose.

There was a jerk on Graham's neck as the hangman tossed the rope over a high branch. The gang members had all dismounted and kept him hemmed in, blocking him from escape. A lone wail from the direction of the house indicated his mother had seen.

"Felicia!” his father barked—a warning to get back inside. Her keening broke off abruptly.

Graham met the hangman's gaze. “I'd like a few moments to make my peace with God."

His family gathered around, and he met one pair of eyes after another, uplifted by the love he saw there. They'd go to their graves for him. Die for him. But not today.

"All right, boy. What do you have to say?” The leader hooked his thumbs in his belt and rocked on his heels.

Graham swallowed hard, feeling every drop of saliva make its way past the tight noose. “Lord, I've been a harsh man, a sinnin’ man. In the war, I killed hundreds of men, most for no more reason than they were standing there wearing a blue coat. I've also sinned against my family, when I recently took a wife in secret—"

Gasps sounded, and a rustle ran through his uncles, cousins, brothers, and lastly, his pa, who fixed him in his hard glare—a glare Graham knew to be secondhand. He was irate at the situation, not at Graham.

"I took a wife in secret to keep her from possibly being in harm's way, knowing a certain ex-spy for the North was sure to turn up here, prepared to shoot me between the shoulder blades for sending him to prison for treason."

"Who you talkin’ about, boy? Wabash?” The leader of the posse's tone was like shards of glass.

"That's right. Lieutenant Wabash served with me, and when I discovered his criminal and treasonous activities, I turned him over to the general of the Confederate army.” Graham stared straight into the leader's eyes, wondering how he knew of Wabash and what their connection was, if any.

"So we might be doing you a favor by sending you on your way to the eternal sleep before Wabash does."

"That's right.” He let his gaze settle on his father, who was ever so slowly inching his finger toward the trigger of his rifle.

"All right, you've said your piece. Graham Hollis, do you have a final word?"

"Yeah,” he drawled. “Go to hell."

Then all hell broke loose.

Kathleen's body screamed from the pain of her bonds as she strained against the ropes. Riding wildly for the Hollis ranch, she'd been set upon by a gang of men wearing black. Two men immediately broke free of the group and raced toward her. They'd caught her up, yanked her off her horse, and trussed her like a hog before she could gather so much as a scream.

Now she lay on her side on the ground, alternately struggling to get free and spitting angry remarks at her captors—Jenkins's brothers. They didn't need to tell her. She'd seen them around, and they'd even all helped out one day last summer, putting up corn and hay for the animals for the winter.

"What do you intend to do with me?"

"We're waiting for you to tell us all about Hollis.” The oldest of the brothers was a greasy-looking man with wide-set eyes and a flat nose.

She shivered as his gaze ticked over her breasts and down to her hips. She wouldn't tell them anything about Graham, even if they tortured her.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you do, pretty lady. Jeb's kept us informed of your activities. We know you were sneaking off with Graham Hollis. Got under Jeb's skin, that did, especially since he had his sights on getting the ranch."

Shock made her heart seize. Fear made her freeze. “What do you mean?” she whispered.

The younger of the two gave a hoarse chuckle and spat a stream of tobacco juice into the dirt near her thigh. She longed to squirm away like a bug, but her bindings made it impossible. “Jeb meant to convince your pa you needed to be married straight away. He asked for your hand, and your pa refused, saying you needed to make your own choices, and when that choice was made, you'd come to him."

She could barely drag air through her lungs. That vile man had asked to marry her? Why hadn't her father told her?

"He wanted the property."

"Yessum. Your land borders ours on the north side. The Jenkins family has been waiting to get our hands on that land for many a decade. We've bided our time, waiting to join it with ours. Jeb thought he had a direct path, but your pa tripped him up."

Her fingers were going numb, but her brain was a whorl of activity. Her father had been drinking whiskey with Jenkins before he'd taken ill. Extremely ill. Had the hired man tried to kill him? Poison him?

Her father's visage floated behind her eyes, his face gray and his features too still.

"If you think you can hold me here and not bring down all the wrath of the Hollis family, you're mistaken,” she said, tight-lipped.

The older man gave a bark of a laugh. “Where do you think that posse was headed when we snagged you? They're going to string up your man for killin’ our brother."

"
Nooooo
!” She flailed in earnest, thrashing and jerking at the rope around her wrists. Terror was a hot coal inside her. They were going to hang Graham! She'd never see him again, and her dream of truly being his wife would never be realized. She'd be a widow before she was even claimed.

Tears choked her, and the evil men who held her prisoner simply stared at her dispassionately. For long minutes, she sobbed, her mind a white haze of pain she couldn't think around.

As she lay there, the light shifted behind her closed eyes. She lost herself in her misery and fear.

When she finally had released her last cry, she opened her eyes to find the sun was sinking in the sky. She'd lain here—how long? Half a day. Graham might already have been dead that long.

The younger Jenkins man waved a bit of hardtack in front of her face. “Have a bite, my pretty. Don't want you to waste away. Those curves are too precious."

"What use am I to you if my husband is already dead for killing your brother?"

"Your
husband?
Damn, woman, how did you manage that?” The older one laughed and slapped his knee.

"You play an important role in this game, Miss Kathleen. You see, we still want that land, and you're our last card.” He leered at her. “My guess is your father ain't a bettin’ man. He'll give us the land in exchange for you."

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The noxious scent of freshly spilled blood hung in the air, and bodies littered the ground. The thunder of hooves sounded as several yellow-bellied members of the posse hightailed it off Hollis land.

But Xander and Graham's father still blocked two men. They trained their rifles on them, and Graham's father spat onto the ground.

"Think you'd like to surrender now, boys? Or join your comrades?” he drawled.

Xander's mouth twitched into a cynical smile. Graham flicked his gaze to the horizon, where four riders were seen in the distance. The Hollises had allowed those men to ride away unharmed. But the hangman and the rest of the posse were dead.

"No.” A stout man wearing spurs strutted between the walls of male Hollis flesh. “We came here to do a job.” He jerked his head at Graham. “That one should be dead, and the rest of you will be too, if I have anything to say about it."

Another man spoke up. “Those four who escaped will go to the authorities."

Graham's father laughed—a booming sound that brought an instant smile to Graham's face. “You think any sheriff's gonna stand on your side? Besides, there isn't a sheriff within fifty miles. And those riders who
left
were warned by my sons. Ain't that right, boys?"

"Yes."

"Yes, sir."

Graham ground his teeth against the need to issue a battle cry. The instinct had been ingrained in him after years of war. But his muscles were screaming with displeasure at being trapped in this noose for so long.

With one quick slice, Clay cut Graham free of the noose. The rope fell away from his throat, and he immediately drew great gulps of air into his lungs. Though he hadn't been in danger of strangling, he'd hated that constricted feeling.

"Thank you, brother.” His voice was hoarse from anger and terror for Kathleen. She was out there somewhere, and there were two more Jenkins men running free. Not to mention Wabash.