by Prairie Heat
Jess rested his hand on the butt of his gun. “Suppose you explain it to me.”
“Why the hell should I? Who are you, anyway?”
“I’m a friend of Mattie’s. We were on the stage together when it was attacked by Indians.”
“I see.”
“I doubt it. Where is she?”
Josiah took a deep breath and then, very quickly, explained what had happened when Mattie arrived. “It was quite a shock to find out that Matilda was still alive,” he concluded. “Quite a shock indeed.”
“Yes,” Jess muttered dryly. “I’m sure it was.”
“I object to your tone,” Josiah said curtly. “If Matilda had made it to Tucson, I would have welcomed her as my wife. She’s an attractive woman, and although we only spoke for a few minutes under strained circumstances, I think we would have been compatible. But I was told she’d been killed. I married Eva with a clear conscience. It’s unfortunate for Matilda the way things turned out, but…” Josiah shrugged.
“There was nothing I could do. Of course, I had to file for an annulment under the circumstances. My lawyer is taking care of everything, and Eva and I plan to be married again as soon as possible.”
Jess nodded. Matilda Thornton, mother of six, would soon be a free woman. The knowledge filled him with a warm sense of happiness. “Did Mattie say where she was going?”
“Back to Boston.”
“I guess she’s had her fill of Western men,” Jess muttered under his breath.
“What?”
“Nothing. Thanks for your time,” Jess said, grinning broadly. “And congratulations on your marriage. I hope you’ll be very happy.”
“Thank you,” Josiah replied, obviously puzzled by McCord’s change of mood.
Jess didn’t bother with a reply. He was thinking of Mattie as he walked down the path and swung aboard his horse. Mattie was free.
He chuckled softly as he rode back to town. He’d finish his business with Elias Kane and then he’d go to Boston and find Mattie.
There was nothing to keep them apart now, nothing at all.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Elias Kane sat in the shade of the ticket office while he waited for the eastbound stage that would carry him one step closer to his destination.
Originally, he had planned to return to Chicago. He had family there, two sisters and a couple of kid cousins, but he had altered his plans on the off chance that McCord was still trailing him. Boston seemed like a good bet, or maybe Philadelphia.
Kane frowned. He’d never been to Philadelphia, didn’t know anybody there and had no reason to go there. He grinned smugly. McCord would never think to look for him in the City of Brotherly Love.
Thinking of Jess McCord inevitably brought Matilda Thornton to mind. The woman stuck in his memory, her image cropping up at odd moments, leaving him to wonder what she was doing, and if she’d found her husband.
Kane stretched his arms, crossed his ankles and shoved his hat back on his head. His taste didn’t usually run to skinny black-haired women, but there had been an indefinable something about Matilda Thornton that wouldn’t let him forget her. Maybe it was because she’d risked her life to save his skin back at the Apache camp, and maybe it was because she was the first woman he had really wanted that he hadn’t bedded.
He grunted softly as he pulled a long black cigar from his coat pocket. He had few regrets in life, but he heartily wished he’d taken the time to sample Matilda Thornton’s charms when he’d had the chance.
Puffing on his cigar, he thought about the girl he’d killed back in Silver City. What was her name? Oh yes, Annie something. She’d been more to his liking, with her curly blonde hair and buxom figure. But Matilda Thornton… He imagined her long black hair falling loose over her bare shoulders, her blue eyes smoky with passion, her body writhing beneath his.
Kane shook his head. Perhaps one day he’d meet up with that filly again.
The idea brought a smile to his face. He was still smiling as he boarded the stagecoach that would carry him to Dodge City and the eastbound train.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Mattie sat back in the seat, her head resting against the warm leather, her eyes closed. Funny, the trip West had not seemed so long. She had been so eager to reach Tucson, to meet her husband, to start a new life. She had viewed the passing scenery with enthusiasm, fascinated by the vastness of the plains, the splendor of the mountains, the rugged beauty of an untamed land. Everything had been new, exciting.
But now… She drew a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh of discouragement. Now she was going home, back to Boston, back where she started.
Mattie’s shoulders sagged dispiritedly. Nothing awaited her in Boston but the prospect of a dull position as a governess. She would spend her days living in someone else’s house, caring for someone else’s children. She’d spend the holidays in her room, alone, unless her employer took pity on her and invited “poor Miss Conway” to join the family for dinner. And even then she’d be on the outside looking in.
Mattie sat up straight, disgusted with herself for indulging in such self-pity. She’d never done it in the past and she saw no point in starting now. Surely there were spinsters who lived full and rewarding lives. Somewhere. If not, she’d be the first!
*
The stage arrived in Dodge City late the following afternoon. Mattie stepped out of the Concord, grateful to have her feet on solid ground again. Collecting her meager baggage, she made her way to the nearest hotel. She still had some money. Thanks to Jess, she could afford to stay in a nice hotel.
An hour later, Mattie was soaking in a bathtub, her eyes closed as she relaxed in the warm water. She had almost forgotten how wonderful it felt to recline in a tub, to feel the water move over her skin, to feel clean all over.
Stepping from the tub, she dressed, brushed her hair and then went downstairs to the hotel dining room for supper. It seemed strange to be alone, unchaperoned, unescorted. She sat down at a small table, conscious of being stared at by the men in the dining room. She concentrated on the menu the waiter brought her, careful not to make eye contact with any of the other diners, resolving there and then to take the rest of her meals in her room.
After placing her order, she stared out the window beside her table, wondering where Jess was, what he was doing, if he had found Elias Kane.
She ate quickly, then decided to take a breath of fresh air outside. The sun had not yet set—it would still be safe for a solitary woman to take a stroll. She wished she had someone to talk to. She missed Jess, missed his companionship, his easy smile, the sound of his voice.
Straightening her shoulders, she tried to think of something else. She thought of Josiah marrying another woman and tried to be angry or jealous, but she felt only relief. Josiah Thornton had seemed like a nice man, and he was pleasant to look at, but he hadn’t appealed to her the way Jess McCord had. If Josiah hadn’t married Eva, Mattie would have been his wife, lived with him, slept with him and never known what love and passion were all about.
With a heavy sigh, she turned back to the hotel. She had known love, she had known passion and desire, and she had loved Jess McCord all the more because he had taught her what it meant to be a woman, to feel cherished and desired. Perversely, she also hated him because of it—because he had given her a taste of happiness that left her famished for more.
Tears burned her eyes and made her throat ache, but she refused to cry.
*
Elias Kane stepped off the stage and made his way through the darkening streets toward the train depot. The next train east left in two days and after buying a ticket, he sauntered down Dodge City’s main street, intent on a bath, a shave, a poker game and a bed, preferably with a woman in it.
He was about to enter Barton’s Tonsorial Parlor when, much to his surprised delight, he saw Matilda Thornton crossing the street, apparently headed for the hotel. He blinked and looked again, hardly daring to believe his good fortune. Yes,
it was really her. He’d recognize that blue traveling suit and the feminine sway of her hips anywhere.
In that instant, all his plans changed. Lady Luck had put Matilda in his path, Kane thought, grinning, and he had never been one to turn his back on a gift.
Changing direction, he followed Mattie into the hotel, took note of her room number and went to get his shave, smiling broadly.
*
Matilda sat up, frowning. Then she heard it again—a knock at her door. Wondering who could be coming to call in the middle of the night, she wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and slipped out of bed.
Opening the door, she gasped when she came face to face with Elias Kane. “You!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”
“Just paying a friendly call,” Kane replied. Pushing his way into her room, he closed the door and leaned back against it. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m on my way to Boston,” Mattie said, clutching the blanket tighter.
“Boston? I thought your husband was waiting for you in Tucson?”
“It didn’t work out.”
Kane nodded, his eyes intense as he glanced at Matilda and then at the rumpled bed.
Mattie took a step backward, her heart pounding in her throat. “No.”
Kane grinned. “Oh yes,” he said. But not here. He wanted time to savor his conquest, time to prolong the pleasure, to hear her pleas for mercy, and this wasn’t the place. The chance for discovery was too great.
He took a step forward, grabbed the edge of the blanket and yanked it from her shoulders. “Get dressed.”
“No.” She opened her mouth to scream for help and Kane slapped her, hard.
“Don’t argue with me, Matilda,” he warned, his voice as hard and cold as ice. “I don’t like it.”
Mattie took a step back, her hand pressed to her throbbing cheek, her eyes widening as Kane drew a derringer from his coat pocket. “Get dressed.”
She quickly did as he said, her heart racing as she pulled on her traveling suit, grateful that she had fallen asleep in her undergarments instead of her nightgown, grateful that she was covered from his leering gaze.
“Let’s go,” he said. “No tricks, no screams, understand? There’s already a rope around my neck, so I’ve got nothing to lose.”
Mattie nodded, her mind whirling as Kane opened the door, then took her arm and guided her down the staircase. She could feel the cold muzzle of the derringer pressed against her side as they made their way across the lobby.
She felt his hand tighten on her arm as they stepped out of the hotel. Panic seized her as she saw two horses waiting at the hitchrack.
Kane felt her tense as she prepared to try to make a run for it. “Don’t do it,” he said, his voice a whisper in her ear. “I’ll kill you right here if I have to.”
Mattie glanced at the people milling in front of the saloon across the street. “Here?” she challenged. “In front of all these people?”
“They can only hang me once,” Kane retorted. “And I’m already overdue.”
Mattie stared at him uncertainly. Almost, she cried out for help, but Kane’s hard green eyes silenced her with a look that said he had nothing to lose.
“Mount up,” Kane said. He took the reins to both horses, waited until Mattie was settled on the back of the piebald mare before he mounted his own chestnut gelding.
Mattie’s gaze darted from right to left as they rode out of town, wishing she had the nerve to call Kane’s bluff. But she had seen the look in his eyes, knew in every fiber of her being that he wasn’t bluffing.
Riding into the darkness, she called Jess’ image to mind. No matter how bad things seemed, she knew he would never give up without a fight.
And neither would she.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Dodge City was a wild and woolly town. It had been founded in July of 1872 and was located five miles from Fort Dodge. Gunfights were common. In November of 1872, Billy Brooks was elected as Dodge City’s first marshal, though the title was unofficial since the town had not yet been incorporated. Billy was often referred to as “Bully” Brooks because he liked to swagger through town wearing a pair of Colt Navy revolvers. It was rumored that twenty-five men were killed in brawls and buried in Boot Hill in the town’s first year of existence.
Jess put what he knew of the town’s history out of his mind as he drew rein at the nearest saloon. Dismounting, he brushed the trail dust from his clothes, settled his hat on his head and entered the saloon. It was quiet this time of day, dimly lit. A man in a pinstripe suit and a black bowler hat sat at a battered piano playing a melancholy ballad of lost love and broken dreams.
Behind the rough-hewn bar, a lone bartender stood polishing a beer mug, a wistful expression on his ruddy face.
Jess dropped a double eagle on the bar to get the man’s attention. “I’m looking for someone,” Jess remarked as the bartender came his way. “A man, probably well-dressed, dark-blond hair, green eyes, about my height. Name of Kane.”
The bartender nodded as he scooped up the gold piece. “Yeah, he was here. Yesterday afternoon.”
“Do you know where he’s staying?”
The man shook his head, then grunted softly. “Come to think of it, I recollect he mentioned he was heading over to the Palace.”
“Thanks.”
The clerk at the hotel also remembered Kane. “Yessir, he was here. Didn’t stay though.” The clerk rubbed a hand over his jaw, his expression thoughtful. “He came into the hotel late last night, as I recall. He left about twenty minutes later with a young lady.”
McCord frowned. “A prostitute?”
“No. She was a guest. Come to think of it, they never came back.”
Jess felt the short hairs on the back of his neck stand up. “What was the lady’s name, do you know?”
The clerk flipped open the hotel register, his forefinger skimming down the page. “Conway, Matilda Conway.”
Jess felt suddenly sick to his stomach, as if someone had punched him in the belly, hard. Mattie. And she was with Kane.
“You’re sure they left together?”
“I saw them myself, sir,” the clerk said, his voice indicating he didn’t like having his word questioned, especially by a dusty half-breed.
“Thanks,” Jess muttered, and hurried out of the hotel. He checked the stage office and the train depot, ascertaining that there had been no departures since yesterday afternoon. From the train station, he made his way down one side of the street and up the other, checking every establishment for some sign of Mattie or Kane.
There was none.
His last stop was the livery barn. The hostler remembered Kane, an impatient man who had bought the only two horses he had for sale, a piebald mare and a chestnut gelding.
The hostler shook his head in disgust. “The piebald needed a front shoe, but the gent was in a hurry. Couldn’t wait ’til morning to have the mare shod. She’ll go lame on him if he pushes her hard.”
Jess grinned. A horse without a front shoe would be easy to identify, easy to follow. He made a quick trip to the mercantile, purchased enough supplies to last a week, then rode back to the Palace and began looking for sign. It wasn’t easy to find. Dodge was a busy town, but after forty minutes, he found what he was looking for—two sets of tracks heading out of town. One horse, the one carrying the lighter burden, was missing a front shoe.
*
Mattie stared at Elias Kane, knowing what he intended to do to her, desperately wishing there was some way to avoid it.
They had ridden for several hours the night before, then Kane had pulled up in a narrow box canyon, yanked her from her horse, bound her hands together and pushed her to the ground.
“Get some sleep,” he had ordered, tossing a blanket in her lap. “You’re gonna need it.”
Mattie had huddled beneath the blanket, too frightened to sleep, shuddering with fear and disgust when Kane stretched out beside her, his hands caressing her, his eyes filled
with a dark promise of what the morning would bring.
“Rise and shine, Matilda,” Kane said cheerfully. He cut her hands free and tossed one of his saddlebags at her feet. “I like my bacon well done and my biscuits light.”
Mattie nodded. Rising, she gathered an armload of wood, built a meticulous fire, slowly sliced the bacon. Kane grinned at her, his green eyes mocking and wise, assuring her that he knew what she was up to, that no matter how long she stalled, the inevitable was inevitable.
She had no appetite, but Kane ate heartily, his gaze finding hers again and again, his smug smile grating on her nerves.
And then he put his dish aside and stood up. Mattie scrambled to her feet, a short scream of panic erupting from her throat as Kane’s arms locked around her. Bending her backward, he kissed her, his tongue ravaging her mouth, his grip hard and punishing when she tried to bite his tongue.
He kissed her long and deeply, his breathing growing erratic, his hands stroking her back, slipping under her shirtwaist and chemise. He whispered vulgar things in her ear as he lowered her to the ground, his body covering hers.
Revulsion swept through Mattie as he ground his hips against hers. She twisted her head to the side in an effort to evade his punishing kisses. They were lying beside the fire, and as Kane’s hand closed over her breast, she grabbed a piece of wood that protruded from the fire and brought it down on his head with all the force at her command.
He grunted and fell sideways and Matilda scrambled to her feet, the half-charred branch clutched in her hand. A low moan escaped Kane’s lips as he tried to sit up, and she hit him again, sickened by the sound of the wood striking his head, by the blood that oozed down his neck when he collapsed, facedown, in the dirt.
She had killed a man. Dropping the branch, she turned her back on Kane’s body and began to vomit.
She had killed a man.
When the nausea passed, she ran for her horse. Tears burned her eyes as she struggled with the heavy saddle. And then she was riding out of the canyon, riding as hard and fast as she could, away from Kane, from fear and death, from the horrible memory of bright-red blood leaking from the back of his head.
