In the light of the moon that shone through the window he looked down at the woman sleeping in his arms. As if feeling his eyes on her, she made a little sound and snuggled closer to him. He didn’t have to look at her to see her. He knew by heart every feature, every line from her flaming hair frothing out around her proud head, down her body that moved with such voluptuous grace to the tip of her toes. She was perfect. He prayed that she never saw him when he was wasted to skin and bones and looked down on him with pity.
She would be alone at The House after he was gone if Ellie and Henry stayed at Clayhill Ranch. There could be others like Primer Tass who became obsessed with possessing her. The thought brought a surge of impotent rage. He tried to not think about it; he had to clear his mind and plan what he was going to do.
Kain awakened at daybreak. He lay still, listening. A stream of honkers were flying over the ranch heading south. He could see them in his mind’s eye, stretching their long necks, following their leader to a feeding ground. Outside the window a bird alighted on one of the branches of a tree and loosed a single brief trilling measure of its song, took wing again, and coasted away on a whisper. He heard the lonely, dismal call of the whippoorwill from the other side of the valley where the pines loomed dark and thick.
Sights and sounds of the changing seasons that he had formerly ignored or forgotten were now remembered and appreciated. Waiting to die he had come to realize how very precious life really was. He had a feeling that this might be the day that it would come down to the line: his life or that of Primer Tass.
He shifted his body so that he was leaning over the soft body nestled close to him. This armful of woman was the sun and the moon, the warm wind in the spring, the drink of cool water on a hot summer day. She was everything good and sweet that had ever happened to him. He kissed her lips. She liked him to awaken her with a kiss. Her lips moved beneath his. His lips moved from her mouth to her eyes.
“Open your eyes, my love, so I can see them.”
Unruly bronze curls covered satin white shoulders, pink lips parted invitingly, and sleepy blue eyes smiled up at him.
“Mmm.” She arched against him, and her flat palms began to move on his firm, muscled body, stroking, caressing.
His lips rained gentle kisses across the bridge of her nose, placed adoring kisses on her mouth, then rested his lips on her chin.
“You taste good in the morning, my love.”
“Are you wanting to love me?”
“Ahh . . .” The sound came from deep in his throat. “I’m desperate to love you.”
“What’s stopping you?” Her arms curved around him tenderly. “Hurry up and do it,” she whispered.
Joy surged through him with heavy urgency. He fitted his body over hers. She wiggled deliciously until they were joined. When he clasped her buttocks in his hands to draw them up to receive his full length, she laughed a rich, satisfied laugh that he felt to his very soul.
“Ahh . . .” The sound came again. “There’s nothing more wonderful than this.”
“I like it, too. . . .”
“Kiss me, sweetheart.”
Her mouth found his and kissed it with gentle reassurance, then with rising passion. His hands moved over her body, touching her with sensual, intimate caresses. She opened her eyes and it was all there, his love, his adoration. The wonder of it filled her with joy and she rocked to bring him deeper.
“Oh. Lie still, darling!” He gasped when she began to move urgently. With a little muffled cry he stiffened and thrust deeply. Her beautiful long body responded to his. In minutes they were panting in each other’s arms. They merged into a long, long unbelievable release to the accompaniment of small sounds of pleasure, and lay shuddering in each other’s arms. “I love you, little red bird.”
“And I love you, my wonderful man.” Caught in a drowsy state of sweet exhaustion, they lay entwined for several minutes. Then suddenly, as if heavy chains had been lifted from her control, her arms tightened and she strained him to her, frantically holding onto him. “Hold me, darling. I love you!” Little whimpers came from her lips and she gazed at him in sorrowed despair. “Please! Don’t do this to me. I can’t bear it! Tell me, how much longer? Do you know? Sometimes I think my heart is so heavy it will stop beating.” She pounded on his chest with her fist as the words tumbled from her lips. Tears that would not stay back flooded her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.
“Sweetheart. Please believe me. You don’t want to know. If I thought it would comfort you, I’d tell you. Shh, don’t cry. We may have weeks, months. Don’t think about it. Remember, you promised.”
“I know I did, but I didn’t know how hard it would be.”
“We’ve had this time. If I hadn’t told you we wouldn’t have had this much. I just couldn’t take you and let you think it would go on forever.”
“I keep thinking there’s someone out there beside Tass who wants to kill you, and you know they will do it. Or that you are going to be caught and sent to prison. I could take that, knowing you’re alive. But if you’re killed—”
“It’s a lot to ask of you, sweetheart. But don’t think of the future. Love me now. I need your love.”
He embraced her roughly, but there was nothing rough about the way he kissed her. There was sorrow in her heart, but also singing because as long as he was with her there was hope. She held him as though he were a dream that would fade away if she let go. He kissed her throat, her cheeks wet with tears, her mouth, and when she laid her palm against his face he turned his lips to it.
“Kain—”
“Shh . . . Don’t think about it. I just want to love you, hold you, kiss you.” His exploring hands gripped her buttocks.
A powerful, sweeping tide of love flowed over her, making her feel stronger than the hard-muscled body entwined with hers. Her fingers moved down from the small of his back and pushed him more deeply into her. His mouth closed hungrily over hers in a moist, deep, endless kiss. It seemed to Vanessa that they were no longer two separate people, but one blended together by magic.
“I’m going to name our son Kain V. DeBolt,” she gasped, tearing her mouth free, “and we’re going to make him now!”
“Oh, God!” he said hoarsely, and shuddered violently with release. They lay so close together each could feel the other’s heartbeats. “You were made in heaven, just for me.”
Her hand tickled down over his heart to the bottom of his rib cage. “I came right from here, close to your heart.”
“I believe it.”
When they heard the sounds of a household starting a new day they rose and dressed and went downstairs.
Kain was quiet at breakfast. He ate little, holding Vanessa’s hand beneath the table, watching every expression that crossed her face. When Ellie called for her to help her find bread pans, he went to their room. When he came down he avoided the kitchen, found Mary Ben in the parlor and told her to tell Vanessa he was going out to the corrals.
Vanessa was watching Ellie make bread. “You’re a cook at heart, Aunt Ellie. Now that you’re in this big grand house are you going to give up the dream of having a bakery?”
“Why should I? I love to cook. And there’s no guarantee we’ll stay here. I’m confident now, Vanessa, that if I have to make a living making bread and pies I can.” She smiled. “In the meantime there are a lot of men to feed.”
“They have a cook, Ellie, dear.”
“I know that, but have you seen the bread that cook makes? Ugh! It’s hard and flat.”
Vanessa hugged her aunt. “You sure set this place on its ear!”
“Ah, go on with you. There just comes a time when a woman must stand up for her rights. I’m standing up for mine.”
“Kain said to tell you he went to the corrals.” Mary Ben came through the swinging doors. “What’ll I do now, Mrs. Hill—ah, Ma?”
“That’s better, child. There’s a pan of peas to shell or you can start the churning. Whichever one you want.”
“
I’ll do the peas, Mary Ben, if you want to churn,” Vanessa said.
Until mid-morning, Vanessa passed the time doing odd jobs around the house. The hours seemed to move so slowly. She wished that Kain would come back in. Once she asked Henry if he had seen him. He said no, that he’d been watching the blacksmith. She debated walking down to the corral, but remembered her promise to stay in the house if Kain wasn’t with her. Feeling edgy and caged, she walked out onto the veranda and looked toward the outbuildings. A string of horses were tied to the rails, but Big Red wasn’t among them, nor was he at the rail beside the cookshack where the men gathered to drink coffee and discuss the work.
The uncomfortable feeling she’d had all morning began to intensify. A dark dread settled over her like a heavy cloak. It was going to be an unusual day. She dared not think that this was the day Kain feared. In a moment of weakness she had told him that if he had to go away he was not to tell her when he was going. Oh, God, why had she told him that? Was this the day he was going out to meet Tass, or some other man, or a group of men who were determined to kill him? Please, God! Oh, please don’t let this be the day.
The cold wind of doom blew over Vanessa and chilled her to the bone. Its pressure booming in her ears set her feet in motion. She ran back into the house and snatched a shawl and a bonnet from the rack and headed toward the stables, stumbling and running, praying and crying.
* * *
As the sky grew gray with the approaching daylight, Primer Tass got to his feet. He felt surly and mean. It was getting cold, and there was nothing he hated as much as the cold. He had waited almost too long to make his move, but it had taken time to get his strength back after the squaw had dug the bullets out of him. Luckily he had known one of the Cheyenne braves among the group that caught him after he was wounded. Luck came his way again when he found an old mine shaft that was large enough to conceal two horses, and then again when he saw the drunk miner wave his greenbacks in a Greeley saloon and then carelessly walk out into a dark alley. He now had money and horses to get him and the woman to Mexico.
When he returned from Greeley he had watched the house where the fancy caravan was parked for two days. Nothing stirred but the old man, the dog, and another man working on the woodpile. He never got close enough for a clear shot at either of them because of the damn dog. Then he saw the buggy tracks and followed them to Clayhill Ranch. The day before he had seen her on the upper porch. She had been wearing a blue dress and her flaming red hair had glinted in the sunlight. It was the first glimpse he’d had of her since he was shot and a feeling of jubilance had washed over him. Soon he would have her. She’d not stay there forever. Sooner or later she and DeBolt would leave Clayhill Ranch and return to The House.
He ran his fingers over the hair rope around his neck. The woman had left a mark on him. She had come and gone, but he still had a part of her, and soon he’d have the rest of her to do with as he liked, for as long as he liked. He cursed himself for not taking her at Fort Lyon. But then, he reasoned, he would have had the army after him for taking a woman. He was glad he had waited, it would be all the sweeter when he got her. If the weather turned cold he would have the redheaded woman to warm him, and in a few weeks they would be down south where the sun was hot.
Tass rolled up his blankets and tied them behind his saddle. He dug into his saddlebags for some dried meat and mounted his horse. This could be the day the woman would leave that big, fancy house, and he was ready to take her.
The sun was up when he arrived at the crest of the ridge overlooking the road to the ranch. He tied his horse well out of sight in a heavy growth of brush and settled down with his back to a boulder to watch. He congratulated himself on his patience. He was ready with two horses, supplies and money. Now the waiting was over. As soon as he got DeBolt in his sights, he’d shoot him out of the saddle. He’d done it once and would again. And it would be so satisfying. This time he’d make sure he killed the son of a bitch. He still wondered why he hadn’t taken his chance the morning beside the river when they came for the mules. If he had shot when the old man cut loose with the buffalo gun he could have had both of them. But he had had his mind on the woman. Thinking about her had made him careless.
Tass glanced back to be sure he hadn’t skylined himself on the ridge. If a man wanted to live in this country he stopped where he had a background against which his shape could offer no outline. He never took a risk if he didn’t have to. He had come onto men who had skylined themselves as they slept beside a campfire, had taken a step away from their weapons—and they were dead now.
As the morning progressed the wind picked up and clouds began to form in the southwest. Hell, he thought. They’ll not leave if it’s going to rain. He watched the cloud bank. It wasn’t moving very fast. When he looked back down at the ranch house he saw a buggy turning into the road leading to town.
Tass cursed the Cheyenne brave who had taken his field glasses while his squaw was saving his life. He searched for a better vantage point where he could watch the road and not be spotted by anyone. Below him and to the right was a clump of bushes. He ran, bent low, until he reached them and squatted down.
Elation flooded through him when he saw a blue skirt flapping in the wind. Looking down, the top of the buggy kept him from seeing her, but he could see her blue bonnet, and there was no one with her. She whipped the horse into a trot and the buggy turned the bend and she was out of sight. He wondered vaguely why there wasn’t a rider with the buggy. Then his thin lips quirked. She and DeBolt might have had a set-to and she was leaving in a huff.
This was going to be easier than he thought. He dug in his heels and went back up the hill to where he’d tied his horse. Once mounted, he rode along the crest, keeping the buggy in sight. He’d let her get closer to the old mine shaft before he made his move. An idea began to form. He could conceal the buggy in the mine shaft and they would have a day’s start before anyone knew she was gone.
After several miles of riding the crest, he topped a rise that gave him a sweeping view of the road and a way down to it. He watched the buggy for a long moment, then scanned the road ahead of it. From far away he saw another buggy coming down the road. He let loose a stream of curses. He figured the two were a good three miles apart. If he acted fast, he could get to the woman before she met the other buggy. He had waited too long to let this opportunity pass.
Reining around on the shelving bank, he started his horse down the steep incline. The animal skidded on bent hind legs, regained his footing, made it to the bottom, and leaped into a full gallop. The buggy was less than a quarter of a mile ahead. The horse stretched in a ground-devouring stride to escape the cruel bits of the spurs Tass dug into his flanks. He held the black gelding to a straining run down the narrow track while his heart raced with anticipation. The girl had seen him coming! The buggy picked up speed, but the old nag pulling it was not a running horse, and Tass overtook it easily. Knowing the woman was spunky and would try to shoot him, Tass had his gun in his hand and a smile on his face as he came alongside.
He had only a second to realize his mistake.
The blast from the shotgun struck him in the midsection. He was knocked from the saddle of the running horse and was dead before he hit the ground.
Kain pulled the horse to a stop and looked back. Tass lay in a heap on the ground and his horse was running toward the thick stand of trees on the hillside. Kain took off the bonnet and pulled Vanessa’s blue dress from around his legs. After he placed her old shotgun on the floor of the buggy, he flipped the reins to turn the horse around.
It was over, His plan had worked perfectly. He pulled the horse to a halt, wound the reins around the brake and stepped down. Lying sprawled on the ground, Tass looked small and harmless. Kain nudged him with the toe of his boot, as he would a snake to see if it was still alive.
“You goddamn little son of a bitch!” He toed him again and turned him over. His stomach and chest were riddled, his eyes open and staring. Kain to
ok his knife from his pocket. A savage anger swept up from deep inside him. He grabbed the rope of Vanessa’s hair that hung around Tass’s neck, lifting his head and shoulders off the ground. He sawed through it with vicious strokes of the knife and the dead man’s head dropped with a thud. Kain held the shining copper mass of hair in his fist. “Goddamn you! This is mine!”
The stomach pains that had nagged him all morning were making him sick. He swallowed repeatedly and pressed his palm to his stomach. He wasn’t aware of the approaching buggy until it was almost there and the clip-clop of the horse’s hooves penetrated his senses. The doctor pulled up and jumped down with his bag in his hand.
“You won’t need that,” Kain said tonelessly.
“I heard the shot and came as fast as I could. What happened?”
“I shot him.”
“I can see that. Why?”
“He was going to shoot me.”
“That’s reason enough to suit me.”
Kain had only a moment of warning before the terrible pain intensified and doubled him over. He went in a crouch to the end of the buggy, clung there and vomited violently. There was the usual mingling of blood in the vomit that spewed from his mouth. He heaved until there was nothing left and still the bile rose in his throat. Sweat broke out on his forehead. He wiped his brow with his handkerchief and sagged against the wheel.
“You got one, too, huh?” The doctor stood on the other side of the buggy looking at him. Kain didn’t answer. “It’s the reason I came out here. Slower pace, good air. I hung out a shingle, and if I get a patient, fine. If I don’t, that’s fine, too. I don’t have to worry about it.”
Dorothy Garlock - [Colorado Wind 03] Page 35
