When Clay finally fell from her and collapsed in the grass, the memory of her honeymoon at this same spot made her sob with renewed hopelessness. With Jared, the act of love had been so perfect—a gentle blending of two bodies without ugliness or shame. He’d been careful to arouse her first and when his hard virility had taken her virginity, she had been ready and aching to consummate the union. Now, nothing would ever be the same! Even under Jared’s tender caresses, would she be able to keep her skin from crawling at the memory of what had happened today?
From what seemed like a hundred miles away, she heard Clay’s voice taunting her with his possession of “Bryant’s whore, his half-breed bitch.” Mariah kept her eyes tightly shut against the verbal abuse, aware that there was not much more he could use as a weapon against her. She thought he was babbling insanely until he sneered, “Lil’s your ma, not your half-sister! Some Blackfoot buck got her in a raid at the Bitterroot.”
Mariah knew instinctively that he was speaking the truth. It all fell neatly into place; Lil’s immediate dislike, Maddy’s resentment and Susannah’s agitation when she insisted on coming to Montana. With the realization that Susannah was actually her grandmother, hysteria washed over her in waves. Her eyes suddenly focused in front of her. Clay had risen, angry at her seeming indifference lo his taunts and stood with belt in hand, ready to beat her again. Dear God, not again! Her mind rebelled against the thought of further abuse. She was transfixed by the sight of his hand, twitching angrily at his side. Shocked and paralyzed, she waited for the blows to descend.
With torturous slowness, the hand drew back. Suddenly a shot rang out, a loud crack that broke the stillness. Clay’s face registered stunned shock, wild disbelief as a wide hole blossomed in his chest. His body hung, suspended in space an endless moment before he crumpled lifeless to the ground. He’d fallen heavily across Mariah’s body, his blood ebbing from the wound, staining her bare thighs. The last, brutal trauma pushed Mariah’s mind over the edge and mercifully the black wings of a comforting darkness fluttered over her, obscuring the bloody tableau from her sight.
Chapter 13
Jared was headed home, tired, worn and feeling desperately in need of a bath. His muscles ached from the hard physical labor of the roundup, from the branding and roping that could wear a man in peak condition to exhaustion. Tensing his sore arm muscles, he smiled, realizing that the most strenuous exercise he’d had in two weeks had been taking Mariah to bed. He was almost glad Lil had asked him to join the roundup; he’d needed the workout. It gave him a chance to think clearly about the future. He decided to tell Mariah, when he reached the house, that they could leave for England within a couple of weeks. They would pass through St. Louis and it would give Mariah a chance to see her folks.
At the sight of buzzards, ponderous black shapes, wheeling overhead, Jared pulled up tightly on the reins. He was close to the creek, and as he shaded his eyes against the sun’s glare, he could just make out a shape, sprawled brokenly on the ground. He raced the stallion to the edge of the slope and was off him and beside the body in a moment. One large, squawking predator perched near the body was startled into flight at his approach. Jared stared down at the man, lying face down, his blood a dark maroon staining the grass and already drying. He guessed the identity, but even as Jared turned the body face-up, he was shocked to see Clay Hamilton, his eyes staring sightlessly, a gory rifle wound in his chest.
Jared tried to picture what might have happened. What the hell was Clay doing here on Draper land in the first place, he puzzled silently as he searched the area. Apparently he’d met a woman, by the evidence of Clay’s nearly nude state, but who…and who was it that shot him? Well, he was damned tired and this was a matter for the law to decide. He pulled the rolled blanket from his saddle and using rope, wrapped the body securely, tying it to the back of the horse. The stallion whinnied nervously at the odor of blood, but when Jared rubbed the horse’s gold-velvet nose and spoke reassuringly, he calmed. Just about to mount, Jared anxiously glanced around, checking to see if he had missed any clue. He spied a piece of paper close to where the body had been lying. He reached down and picked it up and his heartbeat seemed to stop for a half-second as he saw the signature.
It was impossible, she couldn’t have written it! The message was illegible. Clay’s blood had poured over it, and the paper had absorbed it like a blotter. All that Jared could decipher were the words, “Please come” and the delicate feminine signature, “Mariah.” His hand squeezed, crumpling the note in a jealous spasm. His wife was meeting Clay! The rays of the setting sun sparkled on an object, lying in the matted, crushed grass and he stooped to retrieve it. His palm burned as it held a familiar gold band, the wedding ring that had been his mother’s. His free hand clenching and unclenching in a fist, he stared at the indisputable evidence of Mariah’s presence here. Glancing about, it would be obvious to any fool that there had been a lover’s tryst; the mating of two bodies had left an imprint in the matted grass. His jaw tensed furiously as he ground his teeth together. Jared jumped to the stallion’s back, his mind a black haze of jealous rage as he prodded the horse to a furious gallop. I’ll kill her when I get my hands on her, he thought, his insides icy-cold with passionate hate. The thought that it might have been she who killed Clay occurred to him and he immediately rejected the idea. Mariah was a city-bred seventeen-year-old. Infidelity was possible, but never murder. No, someone else had come upon them, someone who might have seen her coupling with her lover and decided to take her for his own. Incensed enough to kill, Jared was at the same time anxious to find her. Mariah could well be in danger, for whoever had shot Clay had no scruples about killing. One clean, quick shot had downed him.
A few of the hands who’d returned early saw Jared ride in, a blanket-wrapped shape secured behind his saddle, and they gathered around him, gaping curiously. One of them broke the silence to ask what happened. “Who’s in the blanket, boss? Where’d you find him?”
Jared was in no mood to explain anything. “It’s Clay Hamilton. Found him out by the creek, shot once through the chest, that’s all I know,” he replied curtly. Lil had come outside, hearing the commotion, and stood on the porch with a properly shocked demeanor. When Jared stalked heavily past her she followed, wondering silently why there was only one body. “Jared, I heard you say it was Clay Hamilton. My God, how awful! Why would anyone kill him? He was such a bland sort, I can’t think of anyone he disagreed with except…”
“Except me. I know what you’re thinking, Lil. If I'd gotten there sooner, it might have been me, but some smart bastard beat me to it.” He pulled the bloody, crumpled note and ring from his pocket, handing them to her and waiting while she read the note. “Mariah’s goddamn lucky she wasn’t there when I arrived!”
Lil could barely suppress her triumph. Odd that Jared hadn’t gotten there in time, but apparently some unknown person had shot Clay and disposed of Mariah. She could already see how it would work to her advantage. Jared had fallen for her trap; his black, set frown showed he believed in Mariah’s infidelity. Lil silently wondered what had really taken place. Had Clay raped her when she rejected him? She would have given anything to see that, to watch that bitch reduced to whimpering and pleading for mercy. She ran her hand sympathetically along Jared’s arm, rejoicing at the bitter disillusionment that hardened his handsome features into a mask of hatred. “Jared, I would have warned you, but I knew you wouldn’t believe me about Mariah. Her innocent, sweet manner hid such deceit and guile.” She looked away, unable to meet his eyes and embellished her story, "It wasn’t the first time she met him. While you were away those three weeks, she went riding constantly with him. In fact at the party, they slipped away for almost an hour.”
Jared totally rejected an earlier affair between the two. "For God’s sake, Lil, I was the first! Think I wouldn’t know that? You can’t claim anything about her before we were married.” He threw himself into a chair and stared morosely into the fireplace, lost in bitterness.
“Jared, you were gone almost three days at Myer’s Landing.” She paused and her voice pleaded softly, “Kyle look a note to Clay. Would you have believed me if I had warned you about her? Wouldn’t you have said it was out of spite?”
Infuriated by the confession, Jared glared at her a minute and then gazed sullenly into the fire. His insides felt like they’d been sliced open with a knife. For the first time he’d trusted a woman, and for the tenderness he offered, he’d been kicked in the guts. “No, I wouldn’t have believed you. Hell, she had me wrapped around her finger.” He laughed, bitter tortured sounds mocking his naivete. “I thought I was such a good judge of character!” Suddenly he jumped up, filled with determination.
“Jared, where are you going now? Surely, you don’t still want that little slut…not after what she’s done to you!”
“She may have a whore’s heart, Lil, but she still belongs to me and I got something to settle with her. I might be gone a week following the tracks. Whoever killed Clay took off toward the mountains. I gotta go now, before I lose the trail.” He started to leave the room, pausing at the door. “You’ll have to get some of the boys to take Clay’s body home. Might be best if you went with them, and explained how I found him.” Lil came to him and reached up, softly kissing his cheek. “Of course I will! Darling, be careful out there, it could have been Blackfoot braves. And Jared,” she added sweetly, “I’ll be waiting here when you get back, if you still want me!”
Jared scarcely heard her, his thoughts already tumbling ahead to plan his search. He quickly changed clothes and was on his way within a half-hour. Heading toward the creek, he managed to pick up a faint trail leading toward the mountains. He knew positively from the hoof marks that there had been two Indians and he headed for the Blackfoot camp to seek Gray Hawk’s help. He decided to make camp for the night, but the meal he cooked was tasteless and he threw the plate from him in disgust. Rolling a cigarette, he lit it with a burning twig. As he sat by the fire hypnotized by the flames, too angry to sleep, he considered Mariah’s calculated betrayal.
How could she seem so innocent and vulnerable? She had been a virgin but apparently he had opened a Pandora’s box and Mariah’s natural talents had surfaced. He had been so sure of her, so positive her emerald eyes had sparkled passionately for him alone. Recalling her response the first time he’d taken her, he was sure she hadn’t faked the shy modesty that had kept her eyes closed, that had allowed her to open them only when she had lost herself to passion.
She must have been a better actress than he’d ever seen. He still wouldn’t have believed she’d betrayed her vows if he hadn’t seen the note and found the ring. Now, he took them from his shirt pocket and tried, with a desperation borne of a hope that Mariah was innocent, to decipher its blood-drenched message. Those two damning words were all he could read and, furiously, he tossed the paper into the fire and watched as it flamed and curled into ashes. The ring he had treasured for so long was returned to the chain around his neck. He couldn’t wait to toss it at Mariah’s beguilingly beautiful face.
Because he had to get an early start and needed the rest, he lay back and closed his eyes; but it was a long time before sleep came. His mind whirled with thoughts of what he would do when he found the faithless bitch he had married.
Chapter 14
At approximately the same time Jared was considering Mariah’s fate, she lay alone in an Indian lodge, eyes fixed on the banked fire as she wondered what would happen to her. She remembered nothing; neither her name nor the events that had caused her to block all recall. Already her head ached from the effort. The first memories, her only memories, were of opening her eyes to the mute concern of a young Indian girl. She had been dressed in a beaded, buckskin dress similar to the one the girl wore. She had spoken, requesting water in a dry, hoarse voice. The girl shook her head, indicating she spoke no English. Only by making a sign, as though she were drinking, had Mariah been able to communicate her need.
The girl was beautiful and Mariah found herself wondering if all Indian maidens were as lovely. “Saloma,” the girl had said, pointing to herself and then she had pointed at Mariah. Her own eyes had closed as she tried to remember, but she abandoned the attempt as an erratic, pounding beat drummed at her temples. Her eye lids fluttered open and she attempted to sit up but the movement made her gasp at the aching soreness between her thighs. She lay back, panting from the effort.
Saloma entered the tepee, bringing an animal-skin bag filled with cool spring water. Gently, she held Mariah’s head and helped her to drink. The water refreshed and strengthened her and she allowed Saloma to help her sit. This time she was able to remain upright and she surveyed the interior of the lodge.
Mariah knew only that she was a white woman and that her body seemed to ache from a hundred different bruises. Her legs were covered with blue, bruised streaks. Someone had beaten her severely and violated her. Helpless tears slipped from her eyes. Saloma reached out to touch her shoulder and Mariah could see the sympathy shining from the girl’s eyes.
The animal-skin flap covering the entrance to the tepee was lifted aside and as an Indian brave entered, the girl left Mariah alone with him.
Gray Hawk stared down at the woman he and Burrowing Owl had come across by the creek. She was very beautiful, more so than any woman, white or Blackfoot, he had ever seen. She was clothed now; but the symmetry of her nude body—near perfect, white and soft with pleasing curves, marked as it had been by the white man’s violence, still appeared vividly in his mind’s eye. He wanted to find out more about her and why the white man he had killed had beaten and used her.
“I am Gray Hawk, of the Kainah Blackfoot. You are safe—no one can harm you here. The white man who attacked you is dead. Where do you come from?”
Mariah stared at him, pleased to hear someone speak English. Her fine brows drew together in concentration. When she replied, her voice reflected how puzzled she felt. “I…I don’t know where. I don’t even know who I am!” Two large tears welled out of the green seas of her eyes.
Gray Hawk studied the lovely girl, deciding she spoke the truth. She had no memory of the incident. Perhaps, when she recovered, he would take her to Jared. He would be able to help her find her people.
Suddenly the fire flared, illuminating the delicate planes of the girl’s face. Gray Hawk was stunned to see the star-shaped birthmark, high on her left cheek. Since it had been almost obscured by a vivid, purple bruise, he had missed it when he found her. Only one man he knew who bore it had passed it on to his children; Black Wolf of the Siksika Blackfoot in the North. He reached out and ran his fingers across her cheek.
Mariah was puzzled by Gray Hawk’s action, as he continued to stare. She wondered immediately if he had decided to keep her, for she had seen the swift spark of desire in his eyes.
“You have people to go to, little one. The mark on your face claims you as kin to the great chief Black Wolf who lives far to the north. I will take you back to him—we will leave at sunrise.”
Mariah opened her mouth, not knowing whether she meant to protest, but decided to keep quiet. Whether he looked like he would harm her or not, she was alone in the Indian village; and worse things could happen than being taken to join these relatives. At least he’d made no overt move to harm her.
He left her alone, telling her to rest, and sent Saloma with food. The girl shyly served her and then, before she left her, reached out and softly touched the mark with reverence in her eyes.
The whole episode was puzzling, but Mariah felt she couldn’t think any longer. Too much had happened in one day, and she thanked God she was alive and comparatively safe. Tomorrow there would be time enough to worry about her future.
At sunrise, Jared was awake and drinking coffee by the fire. He’d had little sleep, tossing most of the night and then dreaming of misty green eyes that lied to him at every turn. He began to douse the fire, when the sound of approaching horses made him turn; he was surprised to see a group o
f mounted men riding from the east and headed in his direction. His hand hovered over his gun, but as he recognized a few of the hands, Kyle among them, he relaxed and waved. I suppose Lil sent them, he thought. Damned if he wanted anyone around when he found Mariah!
The men rode into the clearing and stayed mounted, a few pulling their guns. Sam Hamilton made himself the spokesman, hatred twisting his features as he shouted, “Thought you’d get away with killin’ my boy, didn’t you, Bryant? We come to take you back and see you get what you deserve. I always knew you was no good! That slut wife of yours wasn’t reason enough to kill Clay!”
Jared was unable to believe he was being blamed for Clay’s death, and instinctively went for his gun.
“Wouldn’t do that if I was you, Bryant.” Kyle’s voice was slick with confidence as four guns simultaneously aimed at Jared’s chest. “Mr. Hamilton, here, would love to skip a trial. Wouldn’t be no problem t’ bring you back ’cross that stallion a’ yours.”
Outnumbered, Jared cursed and slowly drew his hand away from his holster. Kyle jumped down from his horse and pulled Jared’s gun from his holster. He ordered Jared to mount up, and with a short length of rope, he tied Jared’s hands in front of him. “We’re goin’ back to see the sheriff. Reckon you won’t be so high and mighty then!”
“You son-of-a-bitch, you know I didn’t kill Clay! I was on the range with the boys all day. When I found Clay’s body, he’d been dead, three hours or more!”
“Shut your lyin’ mouth, Bryant, ’fore I shut it permanent!” Hamilton’s rifle butt shoved against Jared’s head, striking a glancing blow that knocked him sprawling. Kyle added a kick in the ribs, viciously aimed with the top of his pointy boot, and Jared saw stars a moment, before he was dragged to his feet and placed on his horse again. His temple was sticky and his own blood ran into his eyes, blurring his vision. His side ached and it felt like he’d broken a rib; but he remained silent, cursing his decision to make camp last night. If only he’d continued, they’d never have found him. He swung his head around, looking back toward the high peaks of the snow-covered mountains. Somewhere up there, Mariah and the real killer were hidden. Jesus Christ, he swore silently, I destroyed the damned note last night! It would have pulled him out of this mess. Still, he wasn’t sure he would have produced it. He had no desire to spread the knowledge of his wife’s infidelity all over the territory. If and when he found her, he’d settle accounts privately with her. Again he cursed himself, this time for his stupidity in trusting her. He should have known better; if he survived what Sam had planned for him, he swore hell would freeze over before he’d make the same mistakes again.
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