Delilah's Flame

by Parnell, Andrea

  Judy turned red to the roots of her hair. “I reckon it is, Judd,” she admitted, her stubby-lashed lids going down. “Wouldn’t nobody have to know ‘cept you and me.

  Chapman grinned wide. The little twit. He’d show her about kissing and something else too. “Well, come on over here then,” he told her. “Come on over here by the feed room where it’s kinda dark.”

  Judy followed him over there, looking about as stiff and appealing as one of the scarecrows out in the field. But he could see those soft triangles under her dress where her young breasts were starting to bud out. She closed her eyes and lifted up her face for a peck on the lips. He gave her that but got her by the arms and jacked her up against the wall and then he covered those tempting little swells with his hands. Judy got scared and started crying and saying she needed to get on back to the house. But it was too late for that by then.

  “Shut up, you slut,” he warned her. “You got what you wanted, now I’m gonna get what I want.” Feeling a hot surge in his loins, he ripped open the front of her homespun dress and uncovered the dusky breast buds that looked like they were just waiting for him to take them in his mouth. Judy screamed when he did that but he shut her up by slamming his mouth over her lips and driving his tongue in her mouth so far she choked on it.

  Hot, sour sweat poured from Chapman’s body as he remembered what happened after that, he pushed Judy into the feed room and tore off her cotton drawers and then he busted into her with all the fury he had in him. Judy screamed like a dying owl and he reckoned she fainted after that. But it didn’t matter because he just kept hammering into her anyway.

  Chapman shuddered and the tic got so bad he had to cover it with his hand. Old Wafield found them on the corn sacks in the feed room and snatched him off his daughter just before he finished with her. Wafield handed Judy out the door to her wild-eyed mother. From what he had heard later, Judy Wafield went soft in the head afterward, couldn’t stand to be around a man, not even her pa. Served her right, though, because with him being in no condition to run, Wafield caught him by the neck and threw him down.

  Chapman pressed the heel of his hand against his twitching eye. Wafield, red with rage, started bellowing about rape and Judy being just fourteen. Wafield didn’t give a shit that Judy had asked for it, had been asking for it. Telling him that just made the bastard madder.

  Chapman croaked for air. For a minute he didn’t see Lilah cringing there in front of him or hear her pleading for him to let her go. He heard Wafield yelling he’d fix that smart cock, and then the big man took that bullwhip of his and damn near stripped all the skin off Chapman’s body. When he was done with the whip, he spread-eagled him and stomped his testicles until Chapman stopped screaming and passed out.

  Chapman shuddered convulsively. He hoped Wafield was burning in hell, and that little whore Judy with him. Since that day, no matter how much he wanted a woman, he couldn’t drive himself into one. But he kept trying and kept trying to find another way to get the same release. What he did with his teeth to whores and the young girls he sometimes managed to lure off alone came close, but never close enough.

  Chapman moved up on Lilah, his pupils cold and fixed as snake eyes. He wiped sweat from his face with the back of his sleeve. “I bet that white flesh tastes sweet as sugar.” He groaned. “Untie them ribbons on that camisole. I want to see your breasts.”

  “I can’t.” She meant it. Frozen with fear, she couldn’t make her arms move.

  “Do it!” Chapman warned. He pulled the hammer of the gun back with his thumb.

  Lilah, wrists tied, fumbled with the ribbons, opening up the front of her camisole, exposing her cleavage to his mad-dog gaze.

  Chapman licked his lips. “That’s mighty purty,” he growled. “I bit a woman’s tit clean off one time ‘cause she wouldn’t make me proud. You gonna let that happen to you?”

  “No, no,” she said weakly. Knowing any show of tears would only bring more abuse from him, she bit her tongue and concentrated on the pain.

  “That’s good to hear,” he said, giving a half-sneer, half-smile. He laid the gun to one side and straddled her legs. Lilah rubbed her wrists when he freed them from the tight bonds. Indicating the slit in the front of his drawers, he whispered to her, “Touch me.”

  Lilah followed the placement of the gun without moving her eyes. God’s mercy! She hoped she could reach it in one try, otherwise she didn’t think she would want to see tomorrow. She felt her mind going black with terror. But she couldn’t faint. Being unconscious wouldn’t stop Chapman’s wrath. He was a madman, a sexually deficient one, and he expected her to make him a man.

  A strangled cry slipped from her lips. Chapman’s cruel face contorted more.

  “I said touch me,” he repeated.

  Lilah stretched out a trembling hand toward him. Let him think she was going to touch him. But if she couldn’t reach the gun, he would have to kill her first.

  Feeling a stir in his groin for one of the few times in all those years, Chapman closed his eyes to slits and groaned in lustful anticipation. At last. He groaned loudly. At last. It was happening to him.

  “Get off her, Chapman!” Tabor, his voice a deadly snarl, lunged into view. If he could have fired without hitting Lilah, the bastard would already be dead.

  Awkwardly positioned for a fight, Chapman yelled a curse and started to his feet. Trying to get clear of him, Lilah lurched and rolled away, knocking Chapman on his side. Cursing her and trying to straighten out, he belly-crawled toward his gun.

  “Move, Lilah! Move!” Tabor shouted, wanting a clear line of fire.

  Lilah, still foggy with fear, was slow to realize what Tabor wanted her to do. Ripping her petticoats as she bolted away from Chapman, she had only the presence of mind to mutter a prayer of thanks she had been saved.

  Almost blind with pain and fury, Chapman groveled for his gun and found it as the girl bounded past him. He snarled a curse. He needed her for cover to get away, but there wasn’t time to grab her before Tabor fired at him and he had to slide behind a fallen tree. The bullet sent splinters of wood and bark spattering into the air. Chapman fired back two shots without even attempting to take aim. The next of Tabor’s bullets vented the baggy leg of his drawers. Chapman sent off another two wild shots.

  Lilah was between them with the paltry cover of a stump protecting her from Chapman’s bullets. Tabor ordered her to flatten out on the ground, a decision he quickly regretted, because it drew Chapman’s attention back to her.

  Gasping for breath, Chapman stilled himself to look. He could see a shimmer of red-gold hair and aimed at it. “I’ll split her skull, Stanton,” he yelled. “Throw out your gun.”

  Tabor plastered himself against the tree trunk that was his cover. “I hope you had a full round in that gun, Chapman, because when you do I’m going to put a hole right through your rotten heart.”

  Chapman fired at the stump. The bullet whizzed by Lilah’s head. She screamed, not because she was hit, but because she was suddenly unsure Tabor was going to give up his gun.

  “The next one’s gonna give her a third eye. You want to see that?”

  “No,” Tabor answered hollowly. Lilah heard a thud and wasn’t sure if it was Tabor’s pistol or her heart falling. “Your choice, Chapman. You’ve got one bullet left, either for her or for me.”

  Chapman’s laugh sounded like glass breaking. He stood but let Tabor see his gun was still aimed at Lilah. “It’s yours, Stanton. I still got a use for her. Step out here, though, I ain’t too choosy.”

  Tabor came halfway from behind the tree. Chapman leveled the gun at his chest and pulled the hammer back. He laughed again. “I like to see a man die sweatin’,” he said. “Git over here, gal,” he ordered Lilah. “You’re gonna watch this too.”

  Tabor waited until Chapman’s gaze was diverted to Lilah. Quicker than a jackrabbit, he dropped to one knee and with his left hand drew his second revolver. The bullet ripped through Chapman’s right wrist. The gun flew fro
m his hand and went off at the same time. Chapman’s wild bullet grazed Tabor’s neck and sent him spinning to the ground behind the tree.

  Blood oozed from Chapman’s wound. Seeing that Tabor was down, Chapman used the moment to dash for his horse. Getting astride was a struggle, but fear gave him strength. He didn’t try to recover his lost gun but rode out as if the devil had called his name.

  “Sweet Jesus,” Lilah whispered, rising on trembling legs to her feet.

  She heard Tabor moaning and hurried through the brush to him. He had his hand on his neck and blood streamed from beneath his fingers. Her tears ran as freely as, amid sobs, she stepped out of one of her petticoats and ripped it down the seam and into strips. She folded the cleanest strips, making one into a pad and then, prying his fingers loose, tied a bandage around his neck.

  “Lilah?” His voice was weak.

  “It’s me,” she said. His face was as white as the cloth she had tied on him. She couldn’t think of anything else to do but cradle his head in her lap and wipe the droplets of sweat from his brow.

  Tabor closed his eyes, though it was difficult not to keep looking at Lilah falling out of her open camisole and bending her care-softened face over him. The wound wasn’t too bad. He was sure the bullet had only nicked a vein and that the bleeding would soon stop. He hated to admit it, but he thought he was more scared than hurt—not for himself, but because he had come so close to getting Lilah killed.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered, reaching for her hand and not finding it.

  “Don’t be sorry,” she said, catching his hand in the air and lacing it with hers. “He’s gone and we’re both alive.” Her voice was soft and comforting as a lullaby. “I’m not hurt and I think you’re going to be all right after you’ve rested.”

  “Lilah, Lilah,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I brought you out here and put you in danger.” His dark eyes blinked open. “Did he touch you? Did he rape you? I’ll hunt him down and kill him for it,” he said savagely.

  Lilah trembled. She didn’t know where she got the insight to explain to Tabor about Chapman. “He wanted to rape me. I don’t think he could. Something...something is wrong with him. He got raving mad when I couldn’t make it...happen for him. He told me about horrible things he’s done to other women. He’s a horrible man. He’s crazy.” Her voice became more agitated. “He talked about using me to get something from Papa. A ransom, I suppose.”

  Tabor moaned. He had thought of Chapman as a nuisance at their first meeting and had thought he’d seen the last of him. But Chapman was crazy, as Lilah said. He wanted that worthless claim Tabor’s father had left to Clement Damon.

  Or was that it? Maybe the land wasn’t worthless and Chapman knew it and was willing to kill to get it. He should have warned Clement before, but he had thought Chapman was just another prospector who had lost touch with what was real. Tabor laboriously closed his eyes again and decided he wouldn’t tell Lilah about the claim. She was half-scared out of her wits now. But as soon as he got to the ranch he would wire Clement of the danger.

  “I’m better, Lilah.” Tabor pushed himself up on his elbows. “Let’s get out of here and find a better place to spend the night.”

  “Spend the night?” She thought of the campfire and the secure berth beneath the wagon. She thought of Sarah’s kind eyes. “Aren’t we going back to the camp?”

  “We can’t,” he said, saddened to hear the anguish in her voice. “My horse is spent and I doubt yours is up to carrying two. Chapman won’t be back. We’ll start off at first light, meet Sarah and the boys down the trail.”

  Lilah shuddered at the mention of Chapman’s name. She was afraid to close her eyes for fear of seeing that twisted face and thinking of what he had wanted from her.

  Tabor struggled to his feet. Lilah shuffled up after him, tying together the few intact ribbons of her camisole. She walked gingerly behind Tabor as he got her horse and led the animal down the trail to where his mount was tied. All the while, she had to keep her fingers tightened to a fold of his shirt; she couldn’t bear the aloneness she felt if the hold broke. To her it seemed a miracle Tabor had come looking for her.

  “How did you find me? How did you even know to look?” she asked softly.

  With Lilah at his side, Tabor unsaddled and unbridled the horses and hobbled their feet. He wanted them to graze and have enough freedom to reach the small brook below the rise they were on.

  “I was awake. I saw you leave the camp. When you didn’t come back right away, I followed you. I found your boots by the stream, then saw two sets of tracks.”

  Lilah placed her arm on his, finding strength in renewing the bond. “I’m glad you went looking,” she said.

  “Me too,” he answered, feeling his voice quiver as he closed his hand over hers. “Chapman’s a nasty piece of goods. I’m sorry I didn’t kill him.”

  Lilah’s brow lifted at the hatred she heard in his voice. Tabor thought the gesture indicated another question. “My aim’s not so good with my left hand,” he explained. “Guess I ought to be glad Chapman’s memory wasn’t so good about what kind of hardware I had.”

  “He won’t come back, will he?” Lilah’s heart leapt to her throat.

  Tabor assured her they would be safe. “Not tonight. I hope never. He’s hurt bad. The wound is going to keep him down for a while, probably ruin his gun arm.” Tabor led her away from the horses and spread a blanket for her, then walked a few more feet and spread another. “Just the same, we won’t build a fire.”

  Lilah looked at the big gulf of blackness separating the two blankets. Tabor’s interest in her might not be admirable, but he had cared enough to chance his life for her. That was a precious gift from one human being to another. Tonight it was enough to make her forget all the harsh things she felt toward him.

  She spoke just above a whisper. “I don’t want to be alone, Tabor.”

  Now it was his heart that caught in his throat. He could see her eyes shining in the moonlight and wished what he read in them meant more than that she was afraid of Chapman. Without saying anything he picked up his blanket and brought it back to hers. They didn’t have long to sleep. The sun would be up in less than two hours. After that there was a long ride to catch up with Sarah. She curled up on the blanket. Tabor eased down beside her. Needing more than just knowing he was near, Lilah placed her arm over his chest.

  Tabor stared up at the stars, feeling heat radiate from the place she touched. But he knew that link was only for the assurance she wasn’t alone. He wanted her, but she had seen the ugliest side of a man tonight. What she needed most was someone to trust.

  * * *

  Big pink cabbage clouds caught the early rays of the sun. Lilah awoke to the wonder of dawn and for the first few minutes found last evening’s nightmare washed from her mind. Without thinking that Tabor’s shoulder formed her pillow, she folded herself closer against his side. Her arm still stretched across his chest and one leg rested partially on his thigh.

  No shadows lay across her heart in this most glorious time of day. She liked mornings because the day was yet untainted by any of the little sorrows and heartaches that might become a part of it. Dawn was hope, and this one, which she had never believed she would see, was to be cherished. And the man beside her, because he had given her this dawn and all those that would follow, was special too. For now she could bask in the glow of the rising sun, free of resentments, old wounds healed. She owed Tabor Stanton her life, and though they might never again have such a bond between them, today it was there.

  How ironic that she had thought Tabor an intemperate, even malicious man. Now that she knew Judd Chapman, Tabor’s vices seemed minimal. If too assertively so, he at least demanded nothing that hadn’t been promised him. She breathed a soft sigh. The promise, the bet, the debt she owed him—of how little value that was compared with her life.

  Like the heat of the sun on her skin, a warm flow of emotions coursed through her veins; a haze of them clouded in her min
d. Last night his nearness had soothed her into a quick slumber. She trusted Tabor, perhaps because he made no pretense about what he wanted from her. His honesty, if nothing else, she could appreciate.

  The anguish over Chapman had left her the moment he lay down beside her. With sleep-heavy eyes she studied the tanned handsome face so near her own. A heavy black shadow covered the jaw and chin, but the strong lines were evident. His brow was smooth as he rested, his lashes sooty and surprisingly long. She thought she liked his mouth best. It was expressive, a quick signal of his mood. She had seen it set in a hard line and she had felt the gentleness of it against her lips.

  Tabor. Tabor Stanton. She twirled the name in her mind as if it were a new one to her thoughts. How had they come to be here, alone together, stripped of all the ordinary human barriers between a man and woman? She felt a curious pull at her heart and mind, as if some thread of understanding should be spun between them. But it was too much to ask of herself when there were so many other mysteries to solve. The sight of him awakened the flames within her, made her want to be someone besides the sedate and proper Lilah Damon. Why was it that only he could quench that fire? That was the thing she had to know. Why?

  Tabor saw her eyes, still misted with sleep, open, blue and trusting in the daylight. If she knew how much he longed for her and how much restraint it had taken for him to lie there all those hours enduring the sleep moves and soft caresses she gave, she might be as afraid of him as she was of Chapman.

  After a few minutes she saw him watching. He smiled. The ordeal she had been through didn’t show in the soft beauty of her face. Her hair, shining like the sun’s own gold, hung in loose tangles on her forehead and across her throat. The blue satin ribbons adorning her camisole hung in loops against her ivory skin. He longed to touch her, longed to hold her, to calm the turbulence he felt inside.

  “We ought to go,” he said, unable to control the huskiness in his voice. He started to ease himself from beneath her.