Trail of Lust (17 page)

"Choose your path, men. You get an intimate look at the barrel of my rifle, or you start runnin’ thataway.” Graham's father motioned toward the place where the other riders had fled.

"We're holding our own.” The stout man spoke for both.

In a rush, the other man, who wore filthy chaps, hurled himself at Graham's father. Clay raised his weapon as Xander shot the man off his feet.

The stout fighter squeezed off a shot. The bullet zinged past Graham's thigh.

"Son of a bitch!” Graham's father fired before the other man swung his gun up.

The report echoed across the hillside. Graham's chest burned. Too many lives lost. But he wasn't about to lose one very important one.

For long minutes, Graham stared at a distant point, praying he'd done the right thing here.

His father grasped Graham's shoulder. “There wasn't a choice, and we all know it, Graham."

"Yeah."

Activity continued around him, but he couldn't move. It was as if the rope still held him fast to the tree.

When Graham's family all settled, Graham looked at each face.

"We're splitting up,” he announced to the group of Hollis men who had just finished stacking the bodies of twenty-six posse members into a pile. Adam and Drew had gone back to the house for wagons to cart the remains away. They'd toss them into a ravine on the remote, north corner of the ranch. One flame and the whole mass would go up in one big funeral pyre—just like during the war. Graham wanted to be well away before the smell of scorching flesh reached him.

Some of his brothers had taken bits of the dead men's clothing and were going to place them well away from their ranch so it looked as if they'd been set upon by Indians. And their horses would be safe enough here. In the Hollises’ business, they acquired and sold so much stock, no one would notice more or fewer horses on their ranch.

"All the uncles and Pa, you're staying with the women. There's no way can we leave them alone. Those four who pleaded for their lives aren't likely to have the balls to come back here or tell a living soul what went down today. But we can't be too careful."

His pa started to protest, but Graham met his stare. If his father had always been in charge before, it was time for Graham to reveal that he could be just as forceful. He was going to get his way in this.

"Clay, Nolan, Calvin, Drew, and Dam, you're with me. We're going straight for the Allen place.” His stomach knotted just thinking of the time they were wasting—time he needed to get to Kathleen. He looked at his other cousins. “Xander, James, Kel, Whitfield, Stowe, Newlin, you're going south. You heard what the leader of that posse said before we killed him. Wabash was last seen near the Mexican border."

God, between the prospect of that traitor being in the area and his absolute
need
to reach Kathleen, Graham's gut was gnarled. But Kathleen came first. He'd have to trust his cousins to take care of Wabash. Xander knew what the man looked like since they'd all served in the cavalry together.

"Godspeed, son. And all of you.” Robert took Graham's hand, looking from face to face. To Graham he said, “Go get your woman. And don't even think about riding by without introducing her to me and your ma."

He gave a hard nod. “Let's ride.” Graham strode away, toward the barn and Old Gray.

A few minutes later, they were riding out, each Hollis on the strong horse stock they bred, rifles in hand and six-shooters on their hips. Graham gave Xander a salute as their groups split off. Then he set the pace toward the Allen Ranch.

As he raced across the countryside to the love of his life, he released a heavy sigh of remorse. How many times had he ridden this path with the longings of his body driving him? Now his heart guided him. The trail of love was being blazed. When he reached his woman, he'd never let her go. There would be no more separations.

When they galloped into the yard, Silas stumbled out of the house, hair sticking up in every direction. The sun had set long ago, and lanterns had been lit all over the yard. The house was aglow with candles.

"Thank the Lord you're here, Hollis! She's gone!"

A convulsion ran through Graham, a pain so deep he felt as if his soul had been rent in two. His heart beat wildly, and the reins fell from his slack hands. His face felt suddenly numb, his mind disconnected from his body. When Bella had hit the earth and her eyes blanked with death, he'd known this same sensation.

He put his hand on his pistol grip. “Talk, Silas."

"She rode out after I encouraged her to get some air. She hasn't been back. I've searched the boundaries and didn't find her. I came back here, hoping she'd turn up. When she didn't, I searched again. I just got in and lit all the lanterns in case she might catch a glimpse of the glow and follow it."

"I don't think she's lost, man. I think she's in trouble. Dam, you're staying here with Mr. Allen. Shoot any man who's not a Hollis."

"Gotcha, coz.” Dam slipped off his horse.

"Silas, I'll bring her home. That I swear. I vow to find your daughter—my wife.” Without waiting to see the man's reaction, Graham spun his horse around and spurred him away, giving the gray his head because he could no longer control his.

Kathleen gathered all the spit she could muster in her dry mouth and propelled it directly into the older Jenkins man's face. It splattered his upper cheek and slid down his pocked face to the corner of his mouth. He darted his tongue out and tasted it.

"Ugh!” She twisted away from his disgusting display and leaned her forehead against the rough bark of the tree. The woodsy scent and the texture brought her back to reality, grounding her. She wasn't just some dog for these men to harass and drag from camp to camp.

They'd moved six times since the sun had risen, in order to avoid being discovered by anyone who might be searching for them. She was still tied up, but they'd loosened the knots so she could regain feeling in her limbs. When they were ready to move to another camp, one of them would hurl her over his shoulder and dump her onto a horse's back.

If not for the warm gold wedding ring hanging between her breasts, she would have long ago given up hope that she'd be found. A quiver went through her. With a stab of pain, she reminded herself that her love was dead—her husband of only a few days. It seemed much longer since the day he'd come to pull the calf.

When he'd called her Nibby.

A sob bubbled up her throat.

"Oy, not again!” The younger Jenkins, who she'd learned was called Dodge, rolled his eyes. “She's a soggy one, this miss."

"She's going to find herself back with Daddy in a few hours,” the older Jenkins replied. “Then we'll be rid of her and her annoying tears. The land will be ours, and while she cries buckets because she has no home, it won't matter a bit to us."

Her heart flipped and raced at a breakneck pace. Dizziness was a wreath around her head—a daisy chain woven with confusion rather than pretty white petals. They were going to take her home soon?

With a gulp, she mentally corrected herself. No, back to her pa. They'd have no home. Where would they go?

Could she just show up on the Hollises’ doorstep, claiming to be Graham's wife and asking for shelter? The thought of Graham sent fat tears rolling once more, and the Jenkins brothers shared a groan.

Knowing it was futile, she pulled at the rope binding her wrists before her. She could only move them a fraction of an inch, and the coarse rope dug into her flesh, leaving it raw and chafed.

A trickle of warm blood soothed the hurt, but she stopped her struggles, knowing Graham wouldn't want this. She had to gather her wits. Apparently the Jenkins men had no intentions of hurting her further. In fact, they were going to let her go soon. In the meantime, she'd try to suppress the panic that continually surfaced when she thought of the posse going after Graham.

The Hollises are strong. They never would have allowed him to be taken and hanged.

She had to hold on to that hope, however thin the thread. Every moment she and Graham had stolen came rushing back into her mind. Each sensual caress, every lingering look. Their last meeting had exposed him to her in a brand-new way. She'd actually begun to think he felt more for her than attraction and the desire to have a woman.

But the little voice in the back of her head spoke up.
Then why wouldn't he claim me as his wife before our families and all of the world?

Even with his fears of being pursued and some harm coming to her, it still made more sense to her to have been kept safely near him. She still couldn't entirely wrap her head around his reasoning. She had to keep reminding herself that the war had made him suspicious. Deep down, she didn't believe he was that person. She'd seen his calmer, sweeter, more carefree soul emerge in the past few days. But she'd had to go along with him—an inherent trust made her follow his wishes.

She rubbed her forehead lightly over the bark again, closing her eyes and trying to drown out the banter of her captors. The sun was setting, and a chill was wrapping around her. The thin fabric of her gown offered little protection against the elements. A bruised sky in the west suggested a violent storm was on its way. The wind was sharpening, coming in shorter blasts.

Dodge noticed this too and tipped his hat back all the way to peer up at the sky. She twisted her gaze away from his ugly features—not truly ugly for themselves, but for their resemblance to his brother. Most likely, Jenkins had poisoned her pa and plotted to gain the land—and her with it.

She shook her head, and the bark scraped her brow.

"Looks like rain."

She felt like grunting at Dodge's keen observation. These men were so dull-witted she wondered how they'd managed to hatch a plan between all five of them. But she kept her lips clamped against the words that threatened to spill out. If they decided not to take her home, she'd never set eyes on her pa or Graham again. Even knowing that these men were using her to steal the Allen land, she didn't care. She needed to get home.

Tears hung on her lower lashes, but the wind dried them quickly. The wind was coming faster, driving at them now, and bringing with it pinpricks of stinging rain.

Dodge gained his feet and pulled Kathleen up by the rope around her wrists. “We're in for a soaking.” He leered at the bodice of her dress, which would be soon molded to her breasts and transparent with wetness.

She could only hope they threw her facedown over the saddle once again.

She teetered, her ankles bound and making it nearly impossible to keep her balance. They'd let her loose only twice to relieve herself in the privacy of the trees before tying her up again. If she had any way of working that rope free, she would have run long ago—leaped onto the horse's back and galloped off.

The wind pushed harder, gusting at them and sending her hair back from her face as rain struck her like shards of glass.

"We'd best move.” With that, Dodge tossed her over his shoulder and lugged her to the horse. When he dropped her, a grunt of breath burst from her. She sagged over the hard leather, taking comfort in the scent of it and the horse beneath.

The older Jenkins man mounted behind her, and she twisted her head from the stench of unwashed man and sour clothes. She concentrated hard on surviving until they reached the next portion of the journey, which hopefully would mean her release.

In a few more hours, she would be in the hands of her father. While that brought fresh relief, she wanted more. Tears clogged her throat as her fears rose up another notch. She was almost certain these men would have taken Graham out of the picture before kidnapping her.

Moisture trickled down her face, mingling with the raindrops. She wanted her husband.

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Fear was a dark horse riding alongside Graham as he thundered across the countryside. For most of a day, he and his family members had backtracked and followed two sets of horse tracks veering off from the posse's, which had ridden for Hollis land.

A day ago, they'd discovered Kathleen's horse grazing in a valley. Abandoned.

He ground his teeth until he felt his jaw would pop under the pressure. The need to roar into the darkening sky choked him. But he held back if only to keep his brothers and cousins from believing him crazy.

Hell, he was crazy. Mad with terror that those other Jenkins men were raping Kathleen, torturing her. All because Graham had been laboring under the delusion that by keeping her away from him, she was safest, when the opposite was true.

A whistle sounded, and he jerked his head around, seeing Drew and Dam pulling up. The sky was about to let loose, and they'd soon lose their tracks to the slippery mud that flowed all over Texas.

Dam's boots hit the earth, and he bent to stare at something on the ground.

Fuck, I missed something
. How much had Graham missed, consumed with his thoughts and riding blindly in hope of finding Kathleen?

He threw himself off Old Gray and sprinted back to where the other men gathered around a print in the dirt. A swirl that indicated the riders had made a turn. But the rest of the prints that should be there weren't. The wind had blasted the loose dirt over them.

Pain wrenched his soul. If he didn't reach her soon, he'd be out of his head. Revenge wouldn't be a thought in his mind so much as killing would be. If he didn't find her, he couldn't be responsible for the number of lives he'd take.

He tore his hat off and jammed his fingers through his hair, staring at the roiling sky. Where was she? Which direction? His mind was suddenly muddled. All wrong. Had all his choices been wrong? He never should have left her alone to begin with. His actions had only put her in danger.

"Graham! Graham!” Clay's voice broke through to him, and he spun to meet his brother's gaze, hoping his didn't look as desperate as he felt.

Judging from the expression in his little brother's eyes, Graham did.

Quickly, Graham settled his hat and tugged it low to conceal his eyes as much as possible.