Delilah's Flame

by Parnell, Andrea

  Lilah was glad when they turned to other topics, like the number of calves and the well being dug on the ranch. She was also relieved that Sarah realized how tired she was and didn’t expect her to be sociable. Soon the talking had stopped and the three of them were beneath their blankets to sleep. Lilah didn’t know how she could still feel ashamed of any hardship she had caused Tabor. Maybe it was because she had met Sarah and seen how her blunder had interfered in the lives of people she had no right to cause trouble. As much as she despised Tabor, as much as he upset her, she couldn’t ignore the fact that she had done an injustice to innocent people.

  With those things and the thoughts of what was yet to come on her mind, she found it impossible to fall asleep. Even with every part of her begging for rest, she couldn’t stop thinking how wrong things had gone.

  Overhead the moon was nearly full and like new silver among the multitude of stars. The sight of it hovering peacefully in the black sky eased her a little. She remembered what Papa had said about getting back to things she had known before. How had she let herself forget how beautiful and free she could feel with nothing between her and the heavens but an occasional drifting cloud? Deciding she wasn’t going to get to sleep soon and that the night was too beautiful not to enjoy, Lilah eased out of her bedroll, and with her boots in her hand, walked toward the streambed.

  Large rocks sat in the shallow edge of the stream. Lilah waded out to one and sat on the cool stone with her feet dangling in the stream’s flow. She used to do that long ago when she had thought Papa’s mining camp the best place in the world. Papa would swing her out over the water and carry her on his back as he jumped from stone to stone. One night he’d caught her splashing naked in the creek and chased her all over camp with a blanket. What happy days those had been. And how long ago, back when Papa’s legs were still sound, when he could walk and run like any other man.

  The wistful smile left her face and suddenly she felt cold, lost, and alone. The trip into her memories had stirred recollections of good and bad times. As always, it dredged up the old pains and fears. Shivering with a self-made chill, Lilah rose to leave her memories and to go back to the wagon before she recalled too much more of the event that had driven her most of her life. Gingerly she slid from the rock and turned back to the bank.

  “Don’t move!” a gravelly voice warned from within the dark wall of bordering trees.

  “Tabor?” Lilah asked hollowly as she listened to the approaching footsteps, knowing she would have recognized Tabor’s voice.

  A man stepped out of the shadows, just a black image against the white sand. Lilah tried desperately to get a clear look at him, but the wispy moonlight from behind a bank of clouds made recognition difficult. It definitely wasn’t Tabor. The man was too short and she could tell his hair was light-colored. She hoped he was one of the wranglers accompanying Sarah. But that hope was misguided. The man was a stranger and had trained on her the biggest pistol she had ever seen.

  “How sweet,” he said, jabbing her ribs with the gun barrel. “Waiting here for your lover.”

  Lilah was afraid to even tremble. “No, no I wasn’t,” she said with much more calm than she felt. “I came out...” Lilah stopped herself, realizing she betrayed her vulnerability by admitting she expected no one. Cautiously she moved back a step and smiled weakly. “I’m sorry if I disturbed you. I’ll get back to the camp.”

  “You ain’t going nowhere,” he growled, turning so that the moonlight struck his face. It might have been attractive if it hadn’t been so hard and cynical. He gave her a cold-eyed smile. “And don’t think about yellin’ for help. You wouldn’t be the first woman I shot.”

  Lilah’s mouth felt as if it were full of dust. She didn’t want to think about what this grim-faced stranger had in mind. Her eyes strained as quietly, helplessly she watched him untie a bandanna knotted around his neck. With the gun bruising her rib cage, he wadded the cloth into a ball and poked it in her mouth. Lilah gasped for air with the sandy, gritty cloth jammed in her mouth. The man again warned her to keep quiet and forced her to walk backward into the trees. She feared the worst and was actually relieved when he only pushed her against a tree and quickly tied her hands.

  “Don’t give me any trouble.” He glanced around nervously. “I want to get out of here without waking anybody.”

  Saucer-eyed, Lilah nodded. She didn’t know what horrible fate lay in wait for her, but at the moment time seemed the only friend she had. Tears streamed hotly down her cheeks. When he pulled the bandanna from her mouth, she gave a strangled cry.

  “What do you want?” she whispered. “I don’t even know you.”

  “Shut up,” he warned. “I know you, Miss Lilah Damon. And seein’ as how you’re so precious to Stanton and that crippled pa of yours, you’re gonna get me what I want.” Now more frightened than ever, Lilah sniffed. “And don’t waste those tears on me,” he growled. “I hate a woman who snivels.”

  Quickly he folded the bandanna lengthwise and tied it over her mouth. It was uncomfortable but not nearly as bad as choking on it. With Lilah tied and gagged, he took her roughly by the arm and dragged her through the trees and away from the camp. Lilah wondered how long before anyone would miss her and come looking. Not likely before morning. By then she could be dead or wish she was. She was surprised when the man pulled her into a clearing where two horses were tied. Apparently she was to be given a little more time. He helped her mount one of the horses and quickly got astride the other. Riding slowly, he led her mount away.

  * * *

  The ragtag clouds blocking the moon drifted on. Silver-white light bathed the camp. Tabor had seen Lilah slip away toward the streambed and had forced himself to stay in his bedroll. He didn’t think he could be responsible for his actions if he found himself alone with her after watching and wanting her all day. She wouldn’t go far in the dark, he was sure, and most likely she was only answering the call of nature and wouldn’t appreciate being followed. But when half an hour passed and she hadn’t come back, his thoughts turned to worries. Tabor rose quietly, strapped on his guns, pulled on his boots, and went after her.

  Her boots rested, one upright, one lying down, on the stream bank. He checked the sandy ground for tracks and saw that she had waded into the water. She wasn’t there now, though, and the stream was too deep for her to have crossed on foot. He scanned the bank farther down, looking for a sign of where she had come out. After a few minutes of searching he found himself growing angry at the thought of how foolish she was to go wandering around in the dark. Didn’t she have any idea there was danger from all kinds of animals out here, even man?

  When he saw her tracks and another set, he stopped short. The pattern of the steps showed that a man had met Lilah, and then it looked oddly as if she had walked backward into the trees. That made no sense. Whom could she have met out here? A friend? A lover? Or someone she didn’t expect? Alarm ripped down his spine as he followed the tracks into the trees, only to lose them for a few seconds. Finally he spotted them again in a patch of light. Lilah’s scuffled prints confirmed his fear she had entered the trees under duress.

  He didn’t know how much time flew by as he lost and found the tracks another dozen times before coming to a clearing where it was plain a couple of horses had been tied. Both were gone and he knew by the plummeting of his heart that Lilah had been on one of them.

  “Lilah’s gone!” Tabor sounded an alarm as he ran into camp.

  Sarah scooted from under the wagon and jumped to her feet. “When and where?” she asked. She had a lantern lit in no time.

  “Almost an hour ago.” Tabor grabbed his saddle and headed for the tie line where the horses were. Sarah, by now in her boots and hat, followed. “By the looks of things, she didn’t go willingly.”

  “Gabe’s horse is missing,” Sarah pointed out, lifting up a cut-off length of rope where the animal had been secured. “Do you know who’s got her?”

  “No.” He tossed the saddle on the g
elding’s back. “But I’ve got a suspicion it’s a fellow who’s been following us. I noticed some tracks this morning when we left the horses for a while. I should have been more curious about why they were there.”

  “Sounds to me like you’ve lost a lot of the good sense you used to have.” Sarah put the bridle on the gelding while Tabor tightened the girth.

  “Not now, Sarah,” Tabor said flatly. “You can chew me out later. Let me get Lilah back first.”

  “All right, but you’ve got it coming.” Sarah led the horse free of the tie line. “Are you going alone or do you want me to send the boys after you?”

  “I’m going alone.” Tabor mounted. “You break camp and move out in the morning. We’ll catch up with you.”

  Sarah nodded. “Get going!” she said, and gave the gelding a slap on the rump.

  * * *

  “The name’s Chapman. Judd Chapman,” the sandy-haired stranger said. “I got a score to settle with your beau, Stanton.”

  Chapman pulled Lilah’s horse up alongside his. He had both animals moving in a trot. Lilah gripped the saddle horn with her tied hands, trying to minimize the pounding of the rough ride. She mumbled something at him but couldn’t get any words through the tight bandanna. Chapman reached over and pulled it loose.

  Lilah coughed. “Tabor Stanton isn’t my lover and he isn’t my beau. If you plan on using me to get something from him, I’m afraid you’ve made a mistake. He wouldn’t care what happened to me.”

  Chapman laughed bitterly. “He’s been hanging around your pa’s mansion for something. If it’s not you, I don’t know what.”

  “It’s not me,” Lilah insisted. She could see the sinister gleam in Chapman’s eyes and the hungry way he looked at her. It sent a chill down to her toes. “If you want something from my father, I’m sure he’ll give you what you want to get me back—safe.”

  “Well, now, Miss Smarty. Ain’t that why I’ve got you?” He laughed harder. “As for handing you back safe, well, whatever damage I do you’ll most likely get over.” He grinned as he reached out and roughly stroked her arm. “I don’t reckon you’ll mind it too much.” Lilah flinched from his touch and Chapman’s face turned a mottled red. “We’ll see just as soon as we put some distance between us and Stanton.”

  They rode on for another hour, Chapman not pushing the horses but keeping them above a walk. Lilah felt strength draining from her body. She’d had a long, strenuous ride before being taken away by Chapman. Now fear and apprehension of what awaited her at the end of this one added to her exhaustion. Her stomach felt as if it churned with rocks, and each jolt in the saddle worsened the feeling. After a few more minutes she had to shout to Chapman to stop because she was going to be sick.

  He let her get down from the horse on her own. “This better not be a trick to slow me down. I warn you you’ll regret it.”

  “It’s not a trick,” Lilah gasped, hurrying behind some bushes and giving herself over to her nausea. When the heaves stopped, she drew in several deep breaths, hoping Chapman was disgusted enough by her sickness to stay away from her. Feeling weak but better, she walked back to her horse and started to climb on.

  “Don’t bother,” he said, giving her a canteen of water so she could rinse her mouth. She did so as noisily as she could manage. But nothing took the lurid gleam out of Chapman’s eye. He swung down from his saddle. “We’ll walk a ways and find a place to camp. I don’t think Stanton can find us now.”

  Icy fear gripped her heart as he pushed her over sharp stones and through patches of briars. Lilah stumbled on, mindless of the damage to her feet, knowing those injuries would be minor compared to the ones she would suffer from Chapman.

  Chapter 14

  The gelding was strong and gave what was asked of him. When the trail was clear, Tabor kept him in a gallop. At times when he lost it, he led the horse, often resorting to holding a lighted torch over the ground to find it again. He tried to keep his speed faster than the tracks indicated the pair ahead were moving. He thought he must have made up half an hour of the lead they had on him.

  Whatever Delilah—Lilah, he corrected himself—was, he had never meant for her to be in any danger because of him. He felt the rise of a strong protective instinct. It didn’t occur to him that in her eyes he might have been doing the same thing as this man who had forced her to leave the camp.

  Seeing her out on the trail would be enough to arouse a man’s lust. He supposed the man had hung back and followed them most of the day, then waited near the camp until Lilah gave him an easy opening for kidnapping. She was safe as long as they kept moving. Evidently the hombre who had her wanted to put miles between him and a rescue party. Tabor urged the gelding to go faster, calculating how much more stamina the horse had. He couldn’t slack off, but he couldn’t risk wearing out his horse and winding up on foot either. He knew what any man low enough to abduct a woman would do as soon as he felt safe enough to let his guard down.

  He had to find Lilah before that happened. A cold sweat broke out on his brow at the thought of anyone taking her with brutal force. Lilah might not be an innocent, but no woman deserved to be taken against her will. Back by the stream he had seen boot prints. Both horses ahead wore shoes, which meant it probably wasn’t a renegade Indian who had snared her. That might be good, though he knew some white men who could be as heartless.

  Already this man had crossed the line that would allow Tabor to show him mercy. His hand went involuntarily to the handle of one of the guns at his side. Grim creases cut into his brow; his lips were sealed tight. He knew deep in his heart he could shoot Lilah’s captor in the back without a qualm. The gelding, lathered and nearly winded, but still in a lope, whinnied lightly.

  “Easy now. No noise.” Tabor laid his hand on the horse’s neck and spoke softly to him. He guessed his mount had picked up the familiar scent of Lilah’s horse. He rode a few more yards, then dismounted and followed the fresh tracks. Lilah and the man had dismounted too. The gruesome thought that he might not have reached her in time tore at his insides.

  Hearing sounds ahead, Tabor tied the gelding and proceeded on foot. The voices came from only a hundred or so yards ahead, muffled but clearly from a man and a woman. He moved toward them but stopped when he saw a bundle of cloth on the ground. Tabor picked it up and felt his blood chill to ice. Lilah’s yellow dress. The implication cut him in two, still he moved ahead cautiously, not daring to rush in and maybe cost Lilah her life.

  * * *

  Chapman’s slap knocked Lilah to the ground and left her jaw feeling as if it had been stung by a hundred bees. Too tangled in her petticoats to jump to her feet, she scrambled into a thicket, hoping to avoid more of his wrath. Chapman, ugly red veins pulsing in his neck and temples, pursued her.

  “You’re no woman,” he ranted.

  Lilah pushed herself back along the ground with her hands. “Please,” she cried. “I don’t know what you want.”

  He snarled. “I want you to act like a woman. I want you to make me feel like a man.”

  “How?” Lilah whimpered.

  She had an ugly suspicion why Chapman was enraged. Stripped down to his drawers and boots but with his gun in his hand, he was a fanatical sight standing over her, urging his limp, flaccid member to rise.

  Breathing raggedly as if he couldn’t get enough air, Chapman rubbed his hand over his groin. “I’m warning you. Make something happen.”

  “Tell me how. Tell me what,” Lilah pleaded. She thought she might rather die than follow through with what he said, but maybe if he thought she was willing, he’d put down that gun. And just maybe she could get her hands on it.

  “Your mouth,” Chapman said. “With your mouth.”

  Repulsed and feeling the heaves start in her stomach again, Lilah shrank away from Chapman, not realizing how that would anger him.

  He planted his foot on the ruffles of her petticoat. “Don’t back off from me, gal.” The gun waved close to her face. “You don’t back away from Sta
nton, do you?”

  “Yes,” Lilah said weakly.

  Chapman ground her petticoat into the dirt. “Don’t lie to me neither. I’m not fool enough to believe Stanton hasn’t been shaking the sheets on your bed.” He dropped down on his knees. “I reckon you’re quick to spread for him.”

  “No,” Lilah whispered, drawing her body into a tight knot as Chapman leaned into her.

  Eyes glazed over, he touched the red spot his slap had left on her cheek. “I’m gonna leave my marks all over you,” he said. “That’s what I do to gals who don’t get my cock up. I put my teeth in ‘em, Lilah. I bite till the blood runs out. I bite ‘em everywhere, Lilah. And them that don’t like it, I take my knife to. I ain’t gonna have to do that to you, am I, Lilah? Am I?”

  “No, no,” Lilah whispered, hoping against hope Chapman was only trying to scare her into submitting to him without a fight.

  The rough inside of his hand slid down her neck and over her shoulder; then he moved it to his groin. His member hadn’t grown an iota. A tic started in his eyelid, turning on the uncontrollable spasms he got every time he tried to take a woman. He damned Abe Wafield for that. The tic had started the same time he had lost his ability to get an erection, back that day when he was nineteen and fucking the hell out of Wafield’s daughter.

  The little bitch was just fourteen and had a face about as pretty as Wafield’s old rabbit hound, but she had been prissing around and leading him on for two weeks, all the time since he’d hired on to help Wafield work his farm. Finally one day she had come down to the barn where he was tending the cows.

  “I ain’t never had a sweetheart, Judd. I ain’t never had a boy to kiss me.” Judy followed right behind him while he was pitching hay to the cows. “Pa’s gone off to town and Ma’s busy in the house with the little ‘uns,” she hinted.

  He stopped for a minute and jabbed the tines of the pitchfork in the dirt. “You wantin’ somebody to kiss you, Judy? That why you been swinging your skirts around me? That it?”