Love's Bounty

by Rosanne Bittner

  “My name is Christian Mercy,” Chris answered. “Do you know that name?”

  Fallon stiffened and moved his hand toward his gun. In a surprisingly swift move, Chris had his own handgun drawn, cocked, and aimed at Fallon before the man could even think about pulling his own gun. Fallon froze in place, and seeing that he was contemplating running, one of the ranch hands grabbed his horse’s bridle. The other took Fallon’s gun from its holster. The three ranch hands lost their smiles, looking confused.

  “It’s all right, boys,” Ben assured them. “Let this man finish his business.”

  “You’re a goddamn bounty hunter,” Fallon sneered.

  “That’s right. You just sit there while I refresh your memory. Maybe you’ll understand then why I’m looking for you. Callie’s mother’s name was Ellie Hobbs. She and her daughter ran a ranch and farm all on their own, over by Rawlins. You remember being in that area a year or so ago?”

  Fallon just swallowed. “Who’s to prove it?”

  “You and four other men attacked their ranch, took turns raping Ellie Hobbs, then murdered her. You were running with a man by the name of Terrence Stowers. Remember him?”

  “What the hell?” one of the ranch hands muttered.

  “Wait a minute!” Fallon protested.

  “Might go easier on you if you tell me where Stowers is now,” Chris told him.

  “I don’t know no Terrence Stowers,” Fallon claimed. “How do you know any of us was involved in what you’re talkin’ about?”

  “Because Callie Hobbs saw the whole thing.”

  “She couldn’t have! There wasn’t nobody there but—” The man stopped, realizing he’d just implicated himself.

  Chris walked down one step, his gun still on Fallon. “Callie was hiding in the wood box, while you and the others shared whiskey and took turns with her mother.”

  “Oh, God in heaven!” Mrs. Bailey fretted, running off to the kitchen.

  Fallon looked around. “She…she wanted it!” he protested. “It wasn’t rape. She invited us in.”

  “Liar!” Callie screamed, charging out the door. “You filthy liar!”

  Chris grabbed her around the middle before she could reach Fallon to beat on him.

  “You all raped her! You took turns with her and then you killed her! You stole all our money and our horses and cattle! You ugly, filthy bastard!”

  “Get inside!” Chris growled at her.

  She wilted slightly, and he let go of her.

  “Go on. We’ll take care of this.”

  Sobbing with rage, she jerked away from him. “Shoot him Chris! Shoot him right here and now!” she screamed, tears streaming down her face.

  “Go inside!” Chris snapped.

  Callie stood there with fists clenched. Fallon grinned at her. “I sure am sorry we didn’t know you were in that wood box, honey,” he said, an obviously deliberate attempt to upset her more. “I expect you would have been a whole lot more fun than your ma.”

  The man to his right, who still held Fallon’s pistol, suddenly whacked Fallon across the face with his own gun, sending Fallon sprawling. Instantly the three ranch hands jumped on the man and began beating him. Bailey finally broke them up and ordered them to take Fallon to the main barn and tie him to a post.

  “Mr. Mercy here needs to ask him a few questions,” he told his men. “Then we’ll hold court and decide what to do with him.”

  The men dragged a kicking, struggling Fallon off, and Chris turned to Callie. “Go on inside like I told you,” he said. “You don’t need to have anything to do with this.”

  “I want to,” she sobbed, furious at what the man had said about her mother. “I want to cut off that ugly thing between his legs and feed it to the hogs!”

  Chris and Ben looked at each other, and Ben actually chuckled. “That’s a picture,” he said.

  To Callie’s surprise, Chris grinned and shook his head. Bailey walked off toward the barn, and Chris turned to Callie.

  “I don’t doubt Fallon deserves whatever you’d like to do to him.” He holstered his gun. “But first I want to see if I can get anything out of him that might help us find the other three. It will be worth the time we might save. All right?”

  Callie sniffed and wiped her eyes. “If you’re going to shoot him or hang him, I want to watch!” she declared. “You promise you’ll come and get me, Christian Mercy!”

  He reached out and took her face between his hands, wiping her tears with his thumbs, then leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “I promise.”

  He turned and walked away, and all the rage left Callie with that kiss, the touch of his hands on her face. The gesture astonished her. She watched him walk toward the barn.

  “Damn,” she whispered. “I do love you, Mr. Mercy.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Callie stood at the bedroom window, watching the barn, where she could see only a very dim light from a lantern. Chris was out there…alone. What was going through his mind? He’d told Ben Bailey she should stay at the house and get some sleep, said he needed to be alone for a while.

  Was he drinking? Had the events of the day just brought back too many memories?

  She sat down on the window seat and leaned out the open window, resting her arms on the sill. Earlier in the day, more of Bailey’s ranch hands had been brought to the barn for a “trial.” Bailey had held his own form of court, with him as the judge. All present voted that Fallon should be hung; and so he was, from a support beam inside the barn.

  Callie had been allowed to watch, as she’d insisted on doing. It was an ugly sight, a slow, fitting death for the likes of Fallon. Frontier justice had been served, and now Fallon lay buried far out in a field, with no marker for his grave. It was as though he’d never existed, and that was fine with Callie.

  It had not even been necessary to try to beat information out of the man, since he’d bragged to one of Bailey’s men that one of his “best friends,” Terrence Stowers, now ran a saloon at a place called Hanksville in Southeast Utah, a few miles south of the notorious Robber’s Roost, another outlaw hangout. Two other “friends” by the names of Luis Hidalgo and one just called Penny helped with the business. Callie had a pretty good idea they were the last three men she was after.

  So, Hanksville had to be their next stop, but she knew from talking to Ben and Clara Bailey that it was a good two hundred miles away, maybe more. Time was of the essence, since men like Terrence Stowers didn’t usually stay put for long. Bailey had advised they ride to Cheyenne, accompanied by some of his men, who were herding some cattle there, then take the Denver & Rio Grande south to Pueblo, then the Western Denver & Rio Grande to Greene River, which was about fifty miles north of Hanksville, via more country that would take them right along the Outlaw Trail again, through Robber’s Roost.

  It was going to be a very long train ride, preceded by a back-breaking cattle drive, followed by another journey through dangerous country. Callie’s one consolation was that meant she’d be spending a lot more time with Chris Mercy, although from now on and for several weeks they would not be alone.

  Maybe that was best. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Chris. It was her own feelings she didn’t trust lately, and the last thing she wanted to do was make a fool of herself.

  The thought of women like Lisa brought a truly burning jealousy to her soul. Once this was over, would Chris just leave her off in Rawlins and go back to that whore, just to relieve whatever it was men had to relieve themselves of? Lordy, how could she let him walk out of her life like that? He could go away and be killed on his next job. Or he could find some nice woman he would fall in love with and marry…and take to his bed.

  She could hardly stand the thought. Nor could she stand wondering why he was out in that barn alone when he could be in here sleeping in a good, comfortable bed. She leaned farther out, noticing the only sounds were the whinny of a horse here and there, the lowing of cattle, and a hooting owl. Far off in the distance she could hear coyotes yip
ping. The moon was still plenty bright, and she could see a ranch hand riding slowly around the corral area, keeping watch. She knew two more men were farther out, watching some cattle. One of them was singing softly, as men often did when trying to keep cattle calm. The air was still and cool, a beautiful night. Chris shouldn’t be sitting out there alone in that barn with his awful memories.

  She got up. It was going to look bad, but she didn’t care. She was going out there to try to talk Chris into coming into the house. She should be with him. Maybe he needed someone to talk to. She walked to the bed and picked up her flannel robe. She hadn’t worn this cotton nightgown since she left Rawlins, not even that night she spent in the hotel…that night Chris slept with Lisa.

  She pulled on her robe and walked with bare feet out the door and down the wooden stairs to the parlor. The house was so quiet, she could hear Ben Bailey snoring in a downstairs bedroom. That was good. They wouldn’t know what she was doing. She decided to go out the back door, her bare feet making no sound on the floor as she walked through the house. If she kept to the shadows, the men outside wouldn’t know she was going to the barn. They all thought she was upstairs sleeping. Her reputation wouldn’t suffer, but she didn’t really care if it did. Chris was more important than her reputation.

  Once outside, she kept to the darkest areas as she made her way across ground soft from being churned up by the constant beating of horse and cattle hooves.

  She reached the barn door, and taking a deep breath, she peeked inside. Chris sat leaning against the support post under the very beam from which Jim Fallon was hung earlier. A piece of rope still dangled from the beam. Callie shivered at the memory, then ducked inside. Chris caught the movement, and in a split second his six-gun was drawn and aimed. She gasped and stepped back, only then noticing he held a bottle of whiskey in his other hand.

  “It’s just me!” she called in a loud whisper.

  He leaned against the post again, putting back the gun. “Get out of here. I could have shot you.”

  “Why don’t you come inside, Chris? You need some real sleep, in a real bed.”

  “Leave me alone.” He drank down some of the whiskey. “You shouldn’t be out here, dammit. Get back in the house, where you belong.”

  Callie folded her arms in front of her and walked closer. “I will not. I belong out here with you. Something is bothering you bad, probably your memories. I came out to tell you that if you need somebody to talk to—”

  “I don’t!” he snarled. “And it isn’t memories that bother me right now!”

  His anger startled her.

  He looked up at her almost scathingly. “It’s you that’s bothering me, all right? You! So get the hell out of here!”

  Callie frowned. “Me? What are you talking about? What did I do to make you so mad at me again?”

  He snickered and looked away. “My God, you’re so goddamn stupid sometimes.”

  Callie felt like crying at the remark. “Chris, please don’t be like this. I thought we were at least friends now.”

  He looked back at her, his blue eyes looking bloodshot. He looked her up and down, his gaze seeming to drink in every inch of her. “Friends?” He slowly stood up. “You come walking out here in the middle of the night, barefoot, your hair all brushed out long and beautiful, wearing a loose nightgown and robe with probably nothing underneath; you see me sitting here drinking and feeling sorry for myself, and you want to talk about being friends?”

  Callie blinked back tears and backed away a little. “Y-Yes. What’s wrong with that?”

  He laughed and took another swallow of whiskey. He leaned against the support post before continuing. “You don’t have the slightest idea how beautiful you are, do you?”

  Callie’s heart raced with confusion. He really did think she was beautiful, or was that just whiskey talk? Was he angry? Laughing at her? Did he hate her? Love her? “Me? Heck no, I’m not beautiful. I’ve never even tried to be beautiful, or even much cared if I was.”

  He stepped a little closer. “You don’t have to try, Callie. It shines through you, from those freckles on your nose all the way down that pretty little body to your small feet. It comes out in your brown eyes, in the way you talk, the way you smile. Mostly it comes through in your unabashed innocence, and in your bravery, your feistiness, your strength.”

  He took another swallow, and Callie looked away, astounded by his admission, flattered, confused…totally in love. “Well, I reckon I should be flattered. I don’t know what to say, Chris.”

  He laughed again. “You reckon you should be flattered? That’s some of the worst English I’ve ever heard, but when it comes out of your mouth, it’s…I don’t know…cute. Yeah, that’s the word. Cute!”

  Callie looked at him with a scowl. “You’re insulting me, Christian Mercy! I don’t like you this way! You’ve been drinking, and by God, I don’t think that you really think I’m beautiful at all! That’s whiskey talk! You’re fighting something inside, and you’re just trying to cover for it. I came out here with good intentions, but to hell with you!”

  She turned to go, but he grabbed her arm, tossing the whiskey aside. He jerked her around. “Good intentions?” He grasped her arms and yanked her close, wrapping strong arms around her so she could barely move. “You and I both know the real reason you came out here, and it wasn’t just to talk!”

  He met her mouth before she could turn away, parting her lips in a long, demanding kiss, moving one hand over her bottom, pressing his fingers between her legs from behind. Callie finally managed to turn her face away, and he moved his lips to her neck, her throat, moved a hand around to fondle her breasts. Callie pushed at him.

  “Stop it! This isn’t you, Chris. You’re drunk and you’re fighting the truth.”

  “Am I?” he said huskily. He clamped a strong hand under her jaw. “And what truth is that, Callie? Is it the fact that no man has ever kissed your pretty lips, or touched your pretty breasts, or made a real woman out of you?”

  Callie managed to get one hand free, and with all the strength she could muster, she punched him with her fist, slamming it into his left cheek. Startled, he let go of her and she stepped back. “And I thought you were different!” she said, fighting tears. She started to hit him again, but he caught her wrist.

  “I am different! I just don’t want you to see it. I want you to hate me, Callie Hobbs. Understand? I want you to hate me because that makes it easier for me not to love you! But it doesn’t much matter how I fight it. It’s happening, and I can’t stop it…and that scares the piss out of me!” He gave her a light shove. “Are you satisfied now? There’s your truth! I love you, and I’ve got no right ever loving again. I should have been home the night Val and my Patty died! I should have been home, but I was out feeding my own intelligence ego, my own self-righteous belief that I was the smartest goddamn young man on the face of the earth! I was too damn dumb to know what was really important in life! I found that out too late, and I don’t deserve to ever know that kind of happiness again!”

  He remained turned away, leaning against the support post.

  “Go on back to the house,” he said quietly then.

  Callie stood there undecided, truly hating him, truly loving him, truly aching for him but wanting to hit him over the head with a shovel. “You are dumb, Chris Mercy, too dumb to see a chance to be happy again, to have more children, to love and to be loved. If you’re willing to throw all that away, then all your schooling didn’t teach you a damn thing! Hell, I’m smarter than you are, and I’ve never spent more than two years in a real school my whole life!”

  She turned to walk out.

  “Callie, wait!”

  Callie froze in place, not sure what to expect. She felt him come closer, wondered if she should scream when he put his hands in her hair while she stood with her back to him. He ran his fingers down through her hair.

  “You’re absolutely right,” he said, sounding calmer now. “I’m the dumbest son of a bitch w
ho ever walked.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “But there is something you have to understand.”

  Callie remained turned away. “What’s that?”

  He sighed deeply. “It’s…hard. I mean, I had a family once, and I lost it. It’s hard to let yourself love again after something like that.”

  “’Course it is. You didn’t have to tell me that.”

  “It’s not just that. You’re sweet and innocent and damn young.”

  “I’m as much a woman as that stupid Lisa.”

  He pressed her shoulders. “That’s what I mean about you. You have no idea what a statement like that does to a man who’s fighting the very strong desire to find out just how much of a woman you are. You tempt a man without even trying, just by being yourself.”

  “I don’t mind tempting you, Chris Mercy. I love you, plain and simple. I don’t even want to finish this trip for fear something will happen to you. I’m not sure I could go on living if it did.”

  “We have to finish this trip for our own closure, our own sanity. You know we do. And for as long as that takes, I need that time to decide whether I should be a part of your life or get out of it all together.”

  Callie turned. “I don’t want you to ever leave me, Chris. You’re the only man I’ve ever had feelings like this about, the only man I could stand to…let touch me. But not the way you just touched me a minute ago. That wasn’t you.”

  He put his hands to the sides of her face again. “If I touched you the right way, we just might end up doing something neither of us is ready for yet. So go on back to the house. Please go on back to the house. If you love me, you’ll do what I ask.”

  Callie could not help her tears. She grasped his wrists, thinking how strong they were. “Promise me you’ll think real hard on the fact that I love you?” she asked.

  “I’ve been thinking about it already. You didn’t have to say it. I knew. And you don’t have to try to make me love you by coming out here and offering yourself like some kind of sacrifice. All you have to do is just be you, and the real you is scared to death of being with a man that way. If and when something like that happens, we’ll know when it’s right, and it sure as hell won’t be in a barn with a drunk man. A girl like you doesn’t deserve to have it be that way. So just do me a big favor and go away!”