Madeline Baker

by Prairie Heat

  Please, just let her be alive.

  The silent prayer rose in his mind.

  Just let her be alive.

  He refused to think she might be dead, refused to consider the possibility that Kane would rape her and then kill her out of hand, just for spite.

  Please…

  He urged his horse onward, his mind filling with memories of Mattie… Mattie bundled up in a dark blue traveling suit and that ridiculous hat… Mattie sitting in the shade of the Concord beside Yellow Hawk… Mattie insisting she had six kids, hovering over him when he was wounded, lying beneath him, her beautiful blue eyes aglow with desire.

  What would he do without her? She had given his life new meaning, made living worthwhile again. And now she carried his child. She could not be dead.

  Please…

  The trail ended abruptly. He’d been so lost in thought, so preoccupied, that he hadn’t been watching anything else. Now he glanced up, the short hairs prickling along the back of his neck as he realized he had ridden into a trap.

  And Mattie was the bait.

  She was sitting on a flat rock in the center of a stand of timber. Her hair fell over her shoulders and breasts like a waterfall of black silk. A kerchief covered her mouth, a strip of cloth that he recognized as part of her nightgown covered her eyes. Her hands were bound.

  His first instinct was to run to her, to untie her hands and cover her nakedness. Instead, he sat where he was, his gaze sweeping back and forth for some sign of Kane.

  But there was none. No horses, no tracks, no footprints. The ground had been wiped clean of all sign and all he saw was Mattie. Her skin was sunburned, her lips were dry and cracked.

  Jess swore under his breath, cursing Kane for making Mattie suffer, and cursing himself for being the cause.

  As he watched, Mattie’s head lolled forward and she toppled from the rock to the ground. It was more than Jess could bear. Grabbing his canteen from the saddlehorn, he slid from his horse and ran to her side.

  “Mattie!” He tore the kerchief from her mouth and moistened her lips with water from the canteen, then removed the rag from her eyes. “Mattie.”

  “Water,” she croaked. “Please, Kane, give me a drink.”

  “Mattie, it’s me, Jess.”

  Her eyelids flickered open and she stared up at him, her blue eyes shining with hope.

  “Drink this, slow now.”

  He gave her only a little when she felt like she could have drained the canteen dry and begged for more.

  “I know,” Jess said, smiling at her. “You can have a little more later.”

  He was about to untie her hands when he felt the jab of cold steel against his spine. “Kane.”

  “Get up, easy like.”

  “In a minute.”

  “Now, or she’s dead.”

  Jess thought of making a grab for his gun, of trying to roll backward against Kane in the hope of throwing him off balance, of a half-dozen other similar tricks, but in the end he stood up because he couldn’t risk putting Mattie’s life in jeopardy. And that was silly, he admitted ruefully, because Kane was going to kill them both before the day was over.

  “So,” Kane said. “We meet again. You’re the most persistent lawman I’ve ever known.”

  “You knew I’d have to come,” Jess said flatly. “You shouldn’t have killed the Coulter girl or taken Mattie.”

  Mattie looked up at Jess, a look of disbelief in her eyes. “Molly’s dead?”

  Jess nodded, his gaze still on Kane.

  “So,” Kane said, “who goes first? You, or the woman?”

  A muscle worked in McCord’s jaw as he fought to hold onto his temper. “Let her go, Kane. She’s pregnant.”

  Kane glanced at Mattie. She was sitting up now, her blue eyes wide, her face pale beneath her sunburned cheeks. It would be a shame to kill her. Perhaps he’d let her live after all. But there was no need to tell McCord.

  “I’ll do you first,” Kane said, grinning wickedly, “so you won’t have to watch her die, and you’ll never know if I blow her brains out or let her walk away.”

  “No!” Mattie struggled to her feet. “Kane, please!”

  “Keep out of this,” Kane warned. “If you cause me any trouble, I’ll kill him an inch at a time.”

  Mattie halted abruptly. Shoulders slumped in defeat, she stared at Jess. Kane would kill him, she had no doubt of that. And her too, when it suited him.

  Kane’s green eyes glowed with malicious intent as he leveled the Colt at McCord’s chest. “Say your prayers, Injun,” he drawled, and thumbed back the hammer of the Colt.

  Jess took a deep breath, his gaze focusing on Mattie, wanting her face to be the last thing he saw.

  Mattie screamed, “No!” as Kane’s finger curled around the trigger. Lunging forward, she struck Kane across the face with her bound hands, ruining his aim so that the bullet meant for McCord’s heart caught him low in the left side instead, plowing a deep furrow along his rib cage.

  With an oath, Kane did a quarter turn and slammed his fist into Mattie’s belly, knocking her to the ground. His momentum carried him full circle and he leveled his gun at McCord again, only now there was a gun in the half-breed’s hand too.

  Instinctively, Kane dropped to his knees and fired, his bullet striking Jess in the meaty part of his arm just above the elbow.

  Jess fired simultaneously, and Kane yelped with pain, the Colt flying from his hand, as McCord’s bullet struck his right shoulder. Lurching to his feet, Kane ran for the cover of the trees, and his horse.

  Jess started after him, but then he thought of Mattie. He couldn’t leave her here, alone. He pressed his hand to his side, surprised when it came away covered with blood.

  “Jess! Jess! No!”

  Mattie flew to his side, her face streaked with tears as she saw the blood flowing down his side and dripping from his arm.

  “Relax, Mattie, I’m all right.”

  “No, you’re not.” He was in shock now, she thought, but that was good. The pain would come later.

  “There’s a roll of bandages in my saddlebag,” Jess told her as he untied her hands and tossed the rope away. “I brought it in case…” He shrugged. “Just in case.”

  She understood. He’d brought it along in case she needed it.

  Mattie made Jess sit down on the rock while she washed the blood from his arm and side and bandaged the wounds. He’d been lucky, so lucky. The wounds, tinged with blue from the gunpowder, weren’t near as bad as they looked.

  “Oh Jess.” She rested her head against his broad chest, grateful that he was still alive.

  The sun was hot against her bare back and she wondered if Jess had thought to bring an extra shirt. It would be cooler and more comfortable than the dress wadded up in her saddlebag. She was about to ask him when she felt suddenly nauseated.

  “What is it?” Jess asked.

  “Nothing,” Mattie replied, attributing the feeling to the sight of blood and the heat. “Did you bring an extra shirt?”

  “Yeah, although I think I like you the way you are now.”

  Mattie made a face at him. Going to his horse, she rummaged through his saddlebags, smiling when she found a box of tea. He’d brought that for her too, she thought, because he knew she preferred tea to coffee. Well, it would certainly come in handy. He would need plenty of liquids to replace the blood he’d lost, and tea was better for that than coffee.

  She donned his shirt, smiling as she contemplated the argument they’d have when she tried to make him drink a cup of lukewarm tea.

  She was filling the coffee pot with water when a violent cramp seized her. Doubling over, she wrapped her arms around her stomach and gasped as another pain hit her. Sinking to the ground, she began to rock back and forth, her eyes welling with tears.

  “Mattie, what’s wrong?” Jess ran to her side, his arm going around her shoulders.

  “The baby. I’m losing the baby.” She lifted frightened eyes to his face as she felt a sudden
warmth between her thighs.

  “Take it easy, Mattie.” Ignoring the growing ache in his side, Jess carried Mattie into the shade and placed her on the grass, alarmed by the amount of blood she was losing.

  He could not save the child, he thought sadly, but he would not let Mattie die.

  He swore softly, wishing he had a clean sheet to lay her on. The best he could do was the blanket in his bedroll, and he spread it beneath her, feeling helpless and afraid.

  “Don’t worry, you’ll be all right,” he assured her, and prayed it was true.

  “The baby…”

  “We can have another one.”

  She shook her head, her cheeks wet with tears. She didn’t want another child. She wanted this one.

  Jess sat beside her, his hands holding hers, quietly promising her over and over again that everything would be all right, that he loved her, wondering if she even heard him.

  Two hours later, he gathered the tiny, lifeless body into his hands, amazed that it had fingers and toes. It looked like a tiny doll made of glass, he thought, and felt his eyes burn with unshed tears as he wrapped the fetus in a piece of cloth and buried it beneath a tree out of Mattie’s sight.

  Returning to Mattie, he washed the blood from her thighs, careful not to touch her any more than necessary, then he wrapped her in a clean blanket, holding her in his arms until she fell asleep.

  Only then did he let himself think of Kane. The bastard would die for this. If it was the last thing he ever did, Jess vowed, he would kill Elias Kane with his own hands.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Elias Kane drew his horse to a halt some five miles from his old camp. His right arm throbbed monotonously and he cursed Jess McCord long and loud. The man had more lives than a cat. But next time, he promised himself, next time he’d finish that troublesome breed once and for all.

  Dismounting, he removed his shirt and tore it into strips for bandages. His arm hurt like hell and he cussed McCord and the woman as he tied up the wound. Luckily, the bullet had gone clean through his shoulder, but that was where his luck ran out. His saddlebags were lying on the ground five miles back, and he had no food, no water and less than twenty dollars in cash. Damn!

  He swayed unsteadily, weakened by the blood he’d lost. It was suddenly hard to think coherently, and he sank down on the ground, his chin dropping to his chest.

  “Damn you, McCord,” he muttered, and groaning softly, he fell forward, plunging deeper and deeper into an endless black void…

  “No good,” his mother said. “You’re no good. Spawn of the devil…”

  “Worthless bastard,” his father accused him. “Why can’t you be more like Samuel…”

  Samuel. If they’d only known what Sam was really like. There’d never been a better liar than Sam. He drank and gambled and slept with whores, and he taught his younger brother everything he knew. And Kane loved him for it. And when Sam killed a man in a knife fight, Kane took the blame. He left a note saying he was guilty and hightailed it out of town.

  Riverboats and saloons became his home, whores and gamblers and con men his constant companions, and he loved it—the smoke-filled rooms, the stink of cigars and cheap perfume, the feel of a deck of cards in his hands, the thrill of bluffing someone out of a big pot, the risk and excitement of cutting a marked deck into the house deck…

  A scream echoed in the back of his mind, and he saw Kathleen McCord staggering across a sunlit street, a bright red stain blossoming over her left breast…and standing beside her was the little girl his horse had trampled as he rode out of town…

  A wordless cry of despair rose in his throat as he saw Molly walking toward him, her eyes dark with accusation.

  “Murderer!” they all shouted, their hands reaching out for him. “Murderer! Murderer!”

  And his mother rose up before him, her voice shrill, “Spawn of the devil…”

  “No!”

  He woke with his own cry echoing in his ears, feeling a deep sense of relief. It had only been a nightmare after all.

  He let out a long sigh. Tomorrow he’d head for Junction City, catch a train east. He’d change his name, dye his hair, grow a beard. And forget about Jess McCord. The man had the luck of a saint, the tenacity of a bulldog.

  “To hell with him,” Kane muttered as he closed his eyes. Let somebody else kill the troublesome breed.

  As soon as he could ride, he was going to Junction City. He could last the night without food or water, and tomorrow he’d treat himself to a bath and a shave and a hot meal. And then he’d get on a train and go home.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  She was lost in a shadowy world filled with pain and sorrow, and she stumbled blindly down a long corridor, reaching for help that was just out of her grasp. Her arms were empty and she didn’t know why. And then she heard a baby cry, soft and sad, and she ran toward it, her arms outstretched. But no matter where she looked, she couldn’t find the child. Her child…

  “Help me, Jess,” she sobbed. “Help me. Please help me find my baby.”

  He had died and gone to hell. That was the only explanation for the heat that engulfed him. And then he heard Mattie’s voice, and he knew he couldn’t be in hell, not if Mattie was there. Mattie was an angel.

  He heard her voice again, the sound penetrating the red mist that hovered around him. Her anguished cry cut into his heart like a knife and he sat up, suddenly wide awake. Beside him, Mattie was sobbing in her sleep, her arms reaching out, reaching for the baby she had lost.

  “Mattie.” He took her in his arms and held her close. “Mattie, honey, don’t cry. Please don’t cry.”

  Her eyelids fluttered open, and for a moment she stared at him blankly, still caught up in the nightmare. Then she realized that Jess was holding her, and that he was burning with fever.

  “Jess…” Her hand sought his brow. It was hot. Too hot.

  “We’re a fine pair,” he remarked, grinning at her.

  “Oh Lord, Jess, you’re burning up.” She made him lie down, gave him a drink, then stripped off his clothes and began to sponge his body with water from the canteen. Again and again she drew the cloth over his fevered flesh.

  “Mattie, you need to rest.”

  “I’m fine.”

  He shook his head. “It’s too soon for you to be up.”

  “I’m fine,” she insisted. “Here, drink this.”

  He drank deeply from the canteen, but still the fire raged within him and he struggled to his feet, walking unsteadily toward the shallow stream that meandered through the trees.

  Kane had picked a good place to camp, he had to give the man credit for that. There was water, and shade, and grass for the horses. Seeking relief, he sank down in the deepest part of the brook and closed his eyes. The water was cold, so cold against his heated flesh, and it felt so good.

  He’d had fevers before. They were common after a serious injury, but there was no cause for alarm unless his wounds became infected. He hoped that was true for Mattie as well. He’d kept her clean, touched her as little as possible. So far, she seemed all right, but maybe it was too soon to tell. He was familiar with gunshot wounds and knife wounds, even broken bones, but childbirth was out of his jurisdiction. There was nothing to do but wait and see, and in the meantime, the water felt so cold, so good.

  Mattie sat at the edge of the stream. She was wearing his extra shirt and her pantalets, and under other conditions, he might have found her costume amusing, even oddly enticing, but not now. He could think of nothing but the child she had lost.

  Mattie smiled at Jess, refusing to acknowledge the fear that was lurking in the back of her mind. He was hurt, burning with fever. What if he caught a chill sitting in the cold water? What if the fever didn’t go down? What if he died?

  Tears stung her eyes. She’d lost her child. Surely a kind Heavenly Father would not take Jess from her too. They had been through so much together, how could she go on without him?

  Unbidden came the memory of Ka
ne. What would they do if he came back now? But he’d been wounded too. Surely he was holed up somewhere nursing his own wounds.

  A wry smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. What a sorry bunch they were. It would have been funny if it wasn’t so sad, so serious. She felt empty inside, hollow, as if someone had cut out her heart and soul and left only an empty shell. She had a sudden yearning to go back to Abilene, back to the little house she had shared with Jess. They had been happy there, and she wanted to go home and forget everything that had happened. As soon as Jess was better, as soon as she felt strong enough to travel, she would ask Jess to take her home.

  Jess left the stream an hour later and Mattie smiled with relief as she laid her hand on his brow and then his chest. His skin seemed cooler and she insisted he lie down while she brewed some tea and made some broth from the jerky she’d found in his saddlebags.

  Surprisingly, he drank the tea without complaint, swallowed the broth, and asked for more. It wasn’t until later that night that she asked about the baby.

  “Where?” she asked, fighting back her tears. “Where did you bury it?”

  “Over there,” Jess replied, pointing toward a tall pine. “On the other side of the tree.”

  “Could you tell if it was a boy or a girl?”

  “Mattie…”

  “Please, Jess, I want to know.”

  A muscle worked in his jaw as he remembered cradling the tiny thing in his hand. It had looked small and perfect, as fragile and transparent as glass.

  “It was a boy.” My son, he thought, and for the first time he felt the full pain of his loss. A son. It hurt worse than the wounds in his arm and side, and he drew Mattie into his arms, thinking how much worse the loss of a child must be to the one who had carried it. He wished he could say something to comfort her, but words seemed hopelessly inadequate and so he held her instead, hoping it would help.

  They spent the next three days taking care of each other. Mattie tended her husband’s wounds and gave him as much tea and broth as he could hold, pleased to see that his fever dropped a little each day. His arm was stiff and sore, his side ached, but there was no sign of infection.