Madeline Baker

by Prairie Heat

  Matilda clung to the saddle horn, her heart heavy with fear—fear for herself, for her unborn child and for Jess. She had no doubt that Jess would follow, no doubt that Kane had taken her to make sure that Jess would follow.

  Miles passed and she tried not to think what would happen if her horse stepped in a hole while they raced blindly through the night. The wind cut through her cotton gown and tore the pins from her hair, and she clamped her teeth together to keep them from chattering as the cold joined hands with her fear.

  She tried to locate landmarks, tried to think of some way to leave a trail, but she knew that wasn’t necessary. Jess would find her. He was half Indian. He could follow Kane with no trouble at all.

  They splashed across a shallow stream and her heart caught in her throat as her horse tripped, then regained its footing.

  There was nothing to do but hang on, Mattie thought bleakly, hang on and pray. Pray that Jess would come before it was too late, that he would be careful, that he wouldn’t be hurt or killed.

  Closing her eyes, she sent an urgent plea toward heaven, begging for help and strength and courage, praying that Jess would come quickly.

  *

  The office was empty, and for a moment Jess stood in the doorway, a puzzled frown on his face. And then he heard a faint moan coming from somewhere behind his desk.

  Drawing his gun, Jess peered over the desk top. “Molly.” Holstering his weapon, he hurried to her side. Blood was oozing from a cut on her lip; when he lifted her head, he saw a dark stain on the floorboards. “Molly, what happened? Where’s Guilford?”

  She stared at him for a moment, her eyes glazed with pain, before recognition flickered in their depths. “Kane,” she whispered hoarsely.

  A muscle worked in McCord’s jaw as he lowered her gently to the floor, then went to check the cellblock, knowing it would be empty.

  Returning to Molly’s side, he lifted her head into his lap, felt the blood soak his trousers. Removing his kerchief, he wrapped it tightly around her head, staunching the flowing blood from the deep gash near the base of her skull.

  “I’m going for the doctor, Molly,” Jess said. “Just hang on ’til I get back.”

  “He said he’d take me to New York,” Molly said, her voice low and uneven. “He promised…”

  “Hush, girl. Save your strength.”

  “He promised,” she said again, and then the light went out of her eyes.

  Jess sat there for a long time with Molly’s head cradled in his lap, staring at the blood on his hands, feeling it soak, warm and wet, into his pants leg.

  He gazed at Molly Coulter’s pale face, but it was Kathleen’s face he saw, Kathleen’s blood he felt on his hands.

  He stared at the blood, so much blood, and felt sick to his stomach. “Kane, you miserable bastard,” Jess murmured. “This is the last one.”

  He was still sitting there when Guilford came in, whistling softly.

  The deputy came to an abrupt halt when he saw Jess rise from behind the desk, his hands covered with blood. “What the hell…? What happened to you?”

  “Kane’s gone,” Jess replied flatly. He stared down at his hands, then wiped his palms on his pants leg. “Molly Coulter is dead.”

  “Dead?” All the color drained out of Guilford’s face. “Are you sure?”

  “See for yourself.”

  Hesitantly, Guilford rounded the desk and stared down at Molly Coulter’s body. She was dead, all right. The thought made him sick to his stomach.

  Jess studied Guilford through narrowed eyes. “Where the hell have you been?”

  Guilford looked up, his expression blank. “What?”

  “Where’ve you been?”

  “I went to…to Coulter’s to get something to eat.”

  Muttering an oath, Jess grabbed a handful of Guilford’s shirt. “You went to eat?” he exclaimed, shaking Guilford as if he were a rag doll. “You left Molly alone with Kane while you went to eat?”

  Jess swore under his breath as he imagined Guilford chatting with Stella Coulter while Molly Coulter lay on the jailhouse floor in a pool of blood.

  Guilford recoiled from the anger blazing in McCord’s eyes. “I was only gone a few minutes,” he said defensively. “Molly said she’d keep an eye on things for me.”

  Jess shook his head, too angry for words.

  “Kane was locked up when I left,” Guilford said. “How’d he get out?”

  “What the hell difference does it make?” Jess demanded. “Molly’s dead and Kane’s gone.” He shot Guilford a look laced with venom. “Get the hell outta here.”

  “Marshal, I’m sorry. I—”

  “Out! And don’t come back.”

  Guilford nodded, his face grim as he removed his badge and tossed it on the desk.

  “And I mean out of town,” Jess said coldly.

  Guilford nodded again, then walked out of the office, his steps slow and heavy.

  Jess let out a long, slow breath. Somebody had to tell Stella Coulter that her daughter was dead, and that somebody was Jess McCord. He had never dreaded anything so much in his life, but putting it off wouldn’t make it any easier.

  He carried Molly’s body to Ryan’s Undertaking Parlor, wondering what he could possibly say to Stella Coulter, what words of comfort he could offer a mother whose only child had died a violent death.

  Entering the building by the back door, he placed Molly’s body on a long plank table.

  “What happened?” Fred Ryan asked, entering from a side door.

  “I’ll tell you all about it later,” Jess replied wearily. “You got some place where I can wash my hands?”

  “Sure, Marshal. In here.”

  Jess followed Ryan into a small room furnished with a narrow bed, a small dresser and a washstand.

  “There’s fresh water in the bowl,” Ryan said.

  “Thanks.” Jess washed his hands quickly, dried them on the towel Ryan offered him. “Get her cleaned up, will you, Fred? I don’t want her mother to see her like that.”

  “Sure, Marshal, don’t worry, I’ll take good care of her.”

  Jess nodded. “Thanks.”

  “Does Mrs. Coulter know?” Ryan asked as he followed Jess into the back room.

  “Not yet.”

  Ryan clucked sympathetically. “This is gonna be hard on her.”

  “It’s not gonna be easy for me either,” Jess replied heavily, and left the building.

  He thought about Molly as he walked down Main Street toward Coulter’s Family Restaurant. She’d been a quiet kid, shy, self-conscious about the scar on her face. She’d been friendly to Mattie though, and had spent many an evening at the McCord home, helping Mattie with the baking, asking questions about the baby. Jess hadn’t minded having the girl around, mostly because Mattie had enjoyed her company so much.

  Jess frowned, wondering what Kane had said to convince Molly to open the cell door. What was it Molly had said just before she died? Something about New York.

  Jess grunted softly. Kane was a smooth talker and he had a way with women. Poor, sweet, vulnerable Molly, taken in by a lying bastard like Elias Kane. Of course, she would have believed him. She was young, eager for love and acceptance. He could almost hear Kane’s voice, soft and wheedling, promising Molly anything—pretty clothes, bright lights, shiny trinkets, if she’d just unlock the door. And now she was dead. How many other women had he killed? How many besides Kathleen and Molly and the girl back in Silver City?

  Jess drew in a deep breath when he reached the restaurant, blew it out in a soft sigh of resignation and opened the door.

  The restaurant was empty of customers, but he could hear Stella Coulter singing as she washed dishes in the kitchen.

  “Molly, honey, is that you?”

  Jess swore softly, wishing he’d thought to bring Mattie with him. She was a woman. She’d know what to say, how to say it.

  “No, Mrs. Coulter, it’s me.”

  Squaring his shoulders, Jess stepped through the s
winging doors and watched the smile fade from Stella Coulter’s face as he stumbled over the words that had to be said.

  When he left the restaurant thirty minutes later, he knew Molly’s mother would never sing again.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Jess was emotionally drained when he returned home late that night. After leaving Mrs. Coulter, he had gone back to his office to write his report, then sat there, staring blankly at the wall, planning his next move.

  Kane would likely head East, back to his home ground, and Jess fretted that he’d have to wait for daylight to go after him. He wanted to go now, but he couldn’t track the man in the dark, and so he sat in his office, savoring the quiet, letting his anger cool, dreading the thought of going home to tell Mattie what had happened.

  Mattie. He stood abruptly, wondering why he was wasting time sitting in his office when he could be home with his wife.

  Grabbing his hat, he left the jail and rode home, wishing he’d left the report until tomorrow, wishing, suddenly, that he didn’t have to go after Kane. But Kane had to be stopped now, before he killed someone else.

  He unsaddled his horse, turned the big, bald-faced buckskin loose in the corral behind the house and went in the back door. There was a light burning in the parlor and he smiled, thinking he’d find Mattie asleep in her favorite chair.

  But the parlor was empty, so he walked quietly into their bedroom, not wanting to wake her. But the bedroom was empty too.

  Frowning, he returned to the parlor, searching for a note, and then went into the kitchen, but there was no sign of a message or of Mattie.

  Going back to the parlor, he noticed one of his shirts lying on the floor near the sofa. He picked it up and saw she’d been mending a tear in the seam; the needle and thread were still attached to the material.

  Puzzled, he went back into the bedroom. The wardrobe door was open. One of her dresses was missing. He opened the top dresser drawer and noted that her nightgown was gone, and when he checked behind the bedroom door, he saw that her robe was gone, as well.

  “What the hell,” he muttered.

  Leaving the house, he walked toward town, stopping at every saloon, checking the jail, the doctor’s office, but no one had seen Mattie.

  “Kane,” he murmured, and broke into a run.

  At the house, he lit a lantern, then circled the yard, the muscles in his jaw clenching until they ached with the strain. And then he saw the tracks, two sets of prints near the back door.

  Kane had taken Mattie. It was the only explanation that made sense.

  Face grim with determination, he went inside to pack his trail gear.

  *

  Mattie was too weary to be afraid when Kane pulled her from the back of her horse. Totally exhausted, she sank to the ground, not caring that the grass was cold and damp, not caring about anything but the need to sleep. She was vaguely aware of Kane’s arms lifting her as he spread a blanket beneath her, then covered her.

  Closing her eyes, she let sleep take her, protected in the arms of peaceful oblivion.

  It seemed only moments had passed when Kane was shaking her awake. Stubbornly, she kept her eyes closed, not wanting to face him, not wanting to face whatever lay ahead.

  “Come on, Matilda,” Kane growled irritably. “Haul your butt out of those blankets right now, or you’ll be traveling on an empty stomach.”

  She wanted to refuse, but the smell of coffee and bacon was too tantalizing to resist and she sat up. It was her food, after all. Kane had stolen the bacon from her house. She might as well eat it.

  Wordlessly, she held out her hands, expecting him to cut her free so she could eat, but Kane shook his head.

  She refused to beg, but it was awkward, eating with her wrists tied together.

  As soon as Kane finished his meal, he gathered their gear together, lifted her onto the back of her horse and headed out, going north.

  Mattie frowned. She had expected him to go east. “Where are we going?”

  “Junction City. We’ll catch the train from there.”

  “To where?”

  Kane shrugged. “Anyplace east. I’m sick of the West.” He smiled faintly. He’d hoped to kill McCord and be done with it, but maybe this was better. He’d go to some big city in the East and lose himself in the crowd, and he’d have Matilda to keep him company along the way. He’d keep her as long as she amused him, and then he’d get rid of her. Maybe he’d let her go, or maybe she’d have an “accident” along the way, and he’d send McCord a letter and tell him where to pick up the body.

  Mattie shivered under Kane’s prolonged gaze. His eyes were dark and green, as cold as an ice-bound river. She wondered what he was thinking, and was suddenly glad she couldn’t read his mind. Whatever he was planning, she decided she’d rather not know.

  Dragging her gaze from his, she stared ahead, her mind in turmoil. She had to get away from Kane before it was too late, before the menace in his cold green eyes turned to violence. But how?

  She let her horse fall back a little as she began to try to get her hands free, but the knots held and pulling against the rope only made her wrists ache as the rough hemp chafed her skin.

  “Hurry, Jess,” she murmured. “Please hurry.”

  *

  He left at first light, the tracks easy to follow in the soft dirt. Kane was in a hurry, running the horses, and Jess closed his mind to the danger Mattie had been in as her horse galloped through the darkness. He lost the trail several times as the day wore on, and cursed each minute he had to spend picking it up again. He felt civilization falling away a layer at a time as the primal need to rescue his woman and destroy his enemy grew stronger.

  He rode for hours, begrudging the times he had to stop and rest the horse.

  Kane was heading north. Why? Jess puzzled over that as he searched the hard rocky ground for a sign. North, why north? He found the answer and the trail at the same time. Kane was heading for Junction City—and the railroad.

  “Hang on, Mattie,” Jess murmured as he climbed into the saddle. “Hang on, I’m coming.”

  *

  Kane was feeling good when he reined his horse to a halt that night. With luck, they’d reach Junction City the following afternoon, and be on their way east the day after that.

  He was smiling when he lifted Matilda from the saddle. This was better than killing McCord outright, he mused, his hands lingering on Matilda’s waist. She was even prettier than he remembered. He had waited a long time to possess this woman, and he was suddenly tired of waiting.

  Grabbing a handful of her hair, he lowered his head and kissed her, his lips grinding against hers.

  Taken by surprise, Mattie placed her hands on Kane’s chest and tried to push him away, but his left hand was tangled in her hair, and his right arm was locked around her waist, holding her body close to his own.

  He kissed her hard and long, forcing her lips apart, plunging his tongue into her mouth. The unwanted invasion made her gag, and in a fit of anger, she bit down on his tongue.

  With a yelp of pain, Kane drew back, his green eyes glittering. “Don’t do that again.”

  She was seeing Elias Kane for the first time, really seeing him for what he was. The pleasant manner, the flowery compliments, the air of being a gentleman, it was all a facade. He drew her head toward his and kissed her again, his hips rotated against hers with blatant desire and she cringed away from him, disgusted and afraid.

  “Don’t fight me, Matilda,” he warned, his voice low and ominous. “You won’t like the consequences.”

  He let her go and when she didn’t move, he nodded. “Good girl.”

  Fear deadened her limbs as he drew a knife from his saddlebag and slowly began to cut away her robe, a piece at a time. He hadn’t let her change out of her nightgown, and she hadn’t mentioned it for fear of having to undress in front of him. Now, with great deliberation, he lifted the knife to her gown, cutting off a sleeve, a few inches of the hem, the pink ribbon at her throat, the oth
er sleeve.

  Her mouth went dry as he placed the point of the blade at the base of her throat. He had killed before, and Mattie wondered if he would kill her too.

  Instead, he dropped the knife, took hold of what was left of her gown and ripped it from her body.

  In a gesture as old as time, Mattie covered her breasts with her arms.

  “Shy, are we?” Kane drawled, his eyes mocking. “You’ll get over it.”

  He grabbed her hands, baring her body to his gaze, and then he kissed her again, his mouth hot and wet as his lips moved from her lips to her neck and down to the side of her breast. Revulsion rose within her, swift and vile.

  “I’m going to be sick,” she gasped, and turning her head, she began to vomit.

  Kane swore and jumped out of the way, his ardor suddenly cold. “What’s the matter with you?” he demanded.

  Mattie wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. “I’m pregnant.”

  “Pregnant!” Kane’s eyes narrowed as his gaze moved over her breasts and belly.

  Mattie nodded, her arms covering her breasts again as she turned away from him.

  “Pregnant,” Kane muttered. “Damn!” He picked up the knife he’d dropped earlier, then sat down on a rock, his thumb sliding lightly over the blade. He had no use for a pregnant woman, so… What to do with her?

  He could let her go and hope that McCord would give up the search to see her safely home, but McCord wasn’t a quitter. More than likely, he’d leave the woman in Junction City and follow Kane clear back to Chicago, trailing at his heels like a buffalo wolf on the scent of fresh meat.

  He tapped his thumb against the point of the blade. He could kill her now and hightail it out of here, change his name, head for Mexico or Canada… Slowly, he shook his head. He was tired of running.

  He would use the woman for bait and dispose of McCord once and for all.

  Rising, he fished Matilda’s dress from her saddlebag; then, abruptly, he changed his mind. She’d be more of a distraction to her husband the way she was.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Jess rode steadily onward, stopping only to rest his horse. He had no interest in food or sleep for himself, could think of nothing but Mattie.