Texas Passion

by Sara Orwig

  He felt as if he had lost air to breathe, lost his heart from his body. All the pain he had suffered that night with McKissick and his men was nothing to the ache that consumed him. “Rachel,” he whispered softly, wanting her.

  Wanting to be alone, Rachel walked down to the creek and sat, unable to think or see, staring blankly. It was mid-morning Friday, the mornings cooler now than when they had first arrived in Texas. Hammers pounded steadily as the men built the framework for the house and some of them continued finishing the barn. Yesterday, for the first time, Pa, Will, and Oscar had ridden off to look over the land and see about the herd.

  She placed her hand against her stomach. She’d had her monthly and she was not carrying Dan’s child. She had prayed that she would be, so she would have that much of him.

  In a few minutes, Rachel stood up to return to begin getting ready to bake pies for supper that night.

  While she rolled out dough, Eb appeared to sit near her on a cask. “We need some more things and I’m going into town. Do you want to go?”

  “No. I need to do things here. Put sugar on the list. We’re getting low.” The fall day was warm, sunny, with only a faint breeze. She patted the dough.

  “Rachel—” Pa said, sounding stricken.

  Startled, she turned to him and saw him looking beyond her. He stood up and dropped the pen and paper. “There’s smoke.”

  She heard the chilling note in his voice and turned to see a curl of gray smoke rising in the treetops to the west. “Fire, Pa!” she said softly, fear coming, because they hadn’t had rain for weeks now. “It’s a fire!”

  Cold fear gripped her because she didn’t know what would stop a prairie fire from burning everything, trees, grass, feed for the cattle, the new barn, the supplies. “Pa, we’ve got the creek between the smoke and us—”

  Eb rang a bell, running for the barn and yelling. In minutes men rushed away with shovels and sacks in hand. She hurried to help them, glancing back over her shoulder at the vacated barn and the wooden framework of the new house, the wagon and tools abandoned in haste. She turned to go help the men fight the fire.

  A breeze sprang up and in minutes sparks danced from one tree to the next. Grass burned swiftly as the fire raced over open ground beyond the trees. Sparks whirled high in the air. The men dug trenches, tossing dirt on the burning grass while some chopped down trees so flames would not jump from tree to tree.

  With a wet gunnysack Josh slapped at flames like the men. She dipped her sack in the creek and ran back to the fire to work frantically, seeing Abby beating at flames as well while Lissa stood off behind her, wide-eyed and obedient.

  Heat rolled over Rachel, the flames crackling and dancing. She swung the sack, beating out flames until her shoulders ached.

  While they worked, men yelled, digging and tossing more dirt on the spreading flames, shifting their efforts as the fire shifted. She shook from aching muscles while she kept working, her hands stinging where she knew blisters were forming on her palms from the rough sack. A wind sprang up and the battle to control the flames intensified. They fought down to the creek, men spreading out, the fire roaring and crackling as it consumed trees and bushes.

  By evening the wind shifted, turning the fire back on itself. She worked closer and closer to Will; realizing they were controlling the fire’s spread, and it was burning itself out.

  Exhausted, her throat raw, Rachel splashed through a shallow part of the creek. She could get a dipper and pot of water so all the men could have a drink. She moved up the slope toward the wagon.

  A shadow shifted, only a slight movement, and she tried to step back. Arms closed around her, and Lyman McKissick clamped his hands over her mouth.

  Chapter 24

  “I’ve got you, tiger. You’re mine now. I’ve been waiting for this moment a hell of a long time.” Lyman picked her up roughly, carrying her under his arm.

  Enraged, Rachel tried to bite him. He jerked her head around, thrusting a smelly bandanna into her mouth.

  With tears of anger over Dan spilling down her cheeks, she clawed at McKissick, but he dodged her hands and caught her wrists in a grip that made her wince from pain.

  He strode through the trees with her in his arms. “I’ve waited. We set that damned fire and I’ve just been waiting to get you alone. You couldn’t fight me and win. Your pa is going to learn that. I hoped to get the little sister, too. But we’re not waiting for her. It’s you I want,” he said roughly.

  She struggled uselessly to break free and he laughed. “Go ahead and fight. I like that. You’ll lose all that fight soon enough.

  His horse was waiting. Lyman mounted and yanked her up tightly against him, his arms pinning her to him. He turned the horse, glancing back. “Burn like hell!”

  He laughed and urged his horse forward, holding her with his arm banded tightly around her, pinning her arms to her sides. She was pressed tightly against his body, seated sideways, helpless to do anything. She gagged at the bandanna and he laughed again. They rode toward the barn and to her horror she saw McKissick’s men, mounted and waiting.

  She struggled, kicking him, but he merely laughed again. “Go ahead and fight me. Look at the fancy big barn. Too bad we can’t stay around and watch it burn.

  “Torch it, boys. Burn it good,” he called. He turned his horse and she saw two more men near the wagon. She screamed with frustration and rage, the muffled sound making McKissick laugh.

  “Now we’ll burn your wagon. Everything will go up in smoke. I warned you and told you what would happen.” He rode up to one of the men and she realized he was doing it to torment her.

  “Toss a torch in it.”

  The man stuck a match to a torch and it burst into flames. He threw it inside the wagon. She drew a deep breath, thinking of their few belongings they had brought from Mississippi.

  But none of that mattered as much as what he had done to Dan. She closed her eyes. He shook her, his arm tightening painfully around her.

  “Look at it, dammit. Watch it burn.”

  She turned her head to look into his eyes, knowing if she had a revolver in her hands, she would gladly turn it on him.

  “And I’m going to tell you what I did to that halfbreed. He died out on the plains with the vultures and coyotes eating him. I left him staked to the ground with water out of his reach…”

  The words faded as Rachel’s head swam. She hurt so badly she thought she might faint. Her head reeled, nausea threatening. She choked, the gag making it worse.

  “That bothers you, does it? It was long and slow. And before that he had a ride at the end of a rope over miles of rough ground.”

  She shook her head, wanting him to stop, hating him, hating his words, hurting worse than before when she had thought that was impossible. Dan!

  She stopped listening to McKissick. The roaring in her ears drowned him out as she blanked her mind to him, staring into the distance, trying to shut her thoughts to all he had done.

  He urged his horse to a canter and she bounced, feeling his arm hold her tightly so she wouldn’t slip off the horse. They slowed to a walk.

  “I’ll have you all to myself. The boys are working or going to town for a spell. The house is empty. No one will hear you scream. No one will know where you are. By the time your Pa gets around to coming to look for you, I’ll have you hidden away in town where he won’t ever think to look. And when I’m through with you, I’m selling you to someone to take you to Mexico. How do you like that, tiger?” he said, lifting his hand to fondle her breasts. She inhaled and struggled to wriggle away from him. Held close against him, she could only twist against his body and she felt his arousal press against her.

  Rachel closed her eyes and became still, loathing him. Lyman’s hands moved on her breasts, pinching and squeezing her.

  “I’m going to enjoy myself today,” he said, flicking his tongue in her ear. She turned her head away, hating him and hating his touch.

  He jerked her against him. “Feel t
hat?” he said softly. “You feel it, I know. That’s for you, tiger. I’m going to make you my woman.”

  She tried to shift her thoughts away from him, to make her mind blank. He turned his horse and shook her.

  “Look back there.”

  They were on a rise and in the distance she could see flames shooting skyward and she could see the wagon and the barn burning. She thought of all Pa’s work and his hopes. Would this be a final crushing blow? And she wondered if she would escape McKissick with her life.

  “I told all of you to do what I wanted, but you wouldn’t listen.” He turned the horse and headed south. She rode numbly, trying to ignore his fondling, trying not to listen to his steady stream of words that were chilling.

  The ride seemed interminable. She had no idea how long they were on horseback. It was dusk, night falling swiftly when she saw a long sprawling adobe house ahead and a barn and outbuildings.

  “There’s the place. You could have been mistress of all this. This could have been yours, and fancy dresses, and diamonds because I would buy them for the woman I marry. And I offered it all to you.” His voice changed and she could detect the anger. “And you turned me down, didn’t you, tiger? You’re going to learn not to say no to me.”

  He rode toward the barn and she dreaded what she knew was coming. He reined his horse in the barn’s dark interior and flung Rachel down. She slammed against the hard-packed dirt floor, pain shooting up her shoulder, her cry muffled by the neckerchief. Feeling panic, she raised up, reaching to claw away the bandanna and gasping for air.

  “You can scream now. No one’s around to hear you. No one at all,” he said, as he dismounted and slapped his horse on the rump. The animal ran outside and Lyman closed the barn door, dropping a bar in place.

  Momentarily free of him, she came to her feet, looking around. The other door was closed and barred and she knew he would be on her before she could ever lift the heavy bar. Light flared, and she saw him light a lantern that hung on a hook. He moved to light another, suddenly ignoring her as if she didn’t exist. Her gaze swept over the straw-strewn stalls, seeing saddles and harness. She stood in the wide center aisle of the barn. Straw-filled lofts lined either side above her.

  “You can’t get out,” he said softly.

  Looking triumphant, he faced her with lust in his eyes. His big hands were on his hips, his feet spread apart. A gunbelt was strapped around his hips and she looked at the butt of the revolver.

  “I offered you marriage and you said no, so you don’t get to bed down in the house. I’m going to take you out here in the dirt.”

  She watched him warily, feeling hatred consume her, wondering if he was waiting for her to try to escape, just to torment her.

  “I hate you because you killed the only man I’ll ever love,” she said quietly.

  “You’ll hate me for more than that before this night is over,” he said in a gruff voice, losing his taunting smirk.

  He stood only yards away, the light from the lanterns shedding a yellow glow in the barn. The smell of hay and horses and leather was in the air. The night was silent, except for the steady chirp of crickets. She stared at him; his feet were planted apart, his powerful body looking at ease, his hands lightly on his hips. His shoulders were thick and broad and she knew the power in them and in his hands and arms. She knew he would be cruel to her because he was a ruthless man who enjoyed cruelty.

  He yanked his shirt out of his pants. Feeling a rising panic, Rachel glared at him. “You better keep that revolver out of my reach,” she said in a low voice, looking down at the gunbelt across his hips. He pulled out the revolver, aiming it at her. “Come here.”

  She raised her chin and glared at him, suddenly not caring what he did. Dan was no longer alive; she was McKissick’s prisoner.

  He cocked the hammer and she stared at him defiantly, wondering if he shot her in his barn, how he would explain her sudden disappearance or death.

  He grinned, his mouth curling up as he lowered the revolver slowly. Watching her, his grin broadened. “See. That’s what I like about you, tiger. You’re not afraid of the devil himself. Now that little sister of yours would have collapsed in a faint. So would most women. You stood there and looked down the muzzle of a gun and faced me without flinching. That’s a challenge to a man. And I don’t have many real challenges where women are concerned. I never have until I met you.”

  “Then they must have been women who didn’t care what sorry excuse for a man touched them,” she said quietly.

  He chuckled. “Some of those fancy Southern belles were willing to sneak around and let me do what I wanted. I left more than one bastard back in those hills and some dandified Reb thought the child he was raising was his.” McKissick tossed the gunbelt, revolver, and shells into an empty stall. “I don’t need a pistol with you. Not that kind of pistol.”

  He yanked his shirt over his head and she felt trapped as she looked at the ripple of powerful muscles. A mat of thick blond curls covered his broad chest. A scar ran across his ribs. His biceps bulged with muscle, and she knew once she was in his grasp, she couldn’t stop him from doing whatever he wanted to do.

  “And when you get all cowed and about ready to stop fighting me, I’ll tell you in more detail what we did with that halfbreed of yours. It was slow and painful. Not just hours slow, but days.”

  Something inside hurt so badly. She wanted to scream at him and beat against him and yank up the revolver and squeeze the trigger.

  He unfastened his belt and pulled it off, his thick member pushing against his tight pants. If she was going to try to escape, she had to now. Her gaze flew over the barn. There were no windows, no other openings except in the loft and the barred doors. In the stall halfway between them was a pitchfork. She lunged for it, yanking it up and swinging at him.

  He reached for her at the same time, seeing her grab the pitchfork. As she swung, he leapt back, the tines raking across his middle and drawing blood.

  “Well, well. I knew you’d fight, but I didn’t know you’d fight that hard.” His eyes glittered and his lips were wet, and she realized she had only goaded him into wanting her more. And she knew when he took her he would hurt her as much as he could. She could see the lust and fury in his blue eyes that burned with determination.

  “We’ve got all night. My men know to leave us alone. Only a handful of them are on the place and they won’t come up here. You can scream all you want.” He talked in his low, raspy voice, swaying slightly, his hands open and extended from his sides.

  She moved back cautiously toward the door, knowing if she turned to try to lift the bar, McKissick would be on her before she could begin to get the door open.

  He lunged and she jabbed at him. He dodged and she stepped back, farther from him. He laughed. “Quick, aren’t you! I’ll get it from you in a minute, and then we’ll really have fun. He lunged again and she drove it at his groin. He saw what she was doing and twisted, taking a stab in his thigh.

  She heard him grunt from pain as it sunk into his flesh. He grabbed the handle and for an instant she struggled to keep it from him. He jerked it out of her grasp, and she turned to run as he pulled it out of his leg.

  He caught her, his hand closing on her shoulder, spinning her around. He grabbed her shirt, ripping it open. She struggled, trying to break away from him, slamming her knee into his groin.

  He doubled over, his hands loosening their grasp and she ran again. He caught her braid, yanking her back against him. Her hair felt as if he had pulled it out, and she screamed when his arm went around her waist.

  “I have you now. Go ahead, fight!” he ground the words out as he turned her and shoved her back against a stall. He pinned her against the stall with his body while he held her face and kissed her. She sobbed, hating him, beating against him and trying to kick him.

  Suddenly he threw her down. She slammed against the dirt floor, turning to jump up. He was on her, pushing her back down, straddling her, pinning her legs with
his while he unfastened her leather belt and unbuttoned the trousers she wore.

  She struggled to break free, sobbing and twisting, feeling his hands run over her breasts. He was rough, tormenting her, and she hated him. He stood up and yanked her up, jerking down the trousers so they were around her ankles and she couldn’t run or kick him.

  “Let me go!”

  “You’re mine. You did it of your own choice, tiger. You agreed to this,” he said, squeezing her breast, sliding his hand between her legs.

  “No!” She pushed and beat against him, knowing it was useless. His hands were rough, moving over her.

  On a hook only a few feet from her head hung the coal-oil lantern. He bent to take her breast in his mouth. She twisted, swinging her arm, reaching out to grab the lantern and toss it into a stall.

  It smashed with a tinkle of glass, straw igniting instantly.

  “What the hell?” he said, his head jerking up as the first flames sprang up inside the stall. “Dammit.” He was gone instantly.

  “Hellfire—” He grabbed a gunnysack to beat the flames. Yanking up the trousers, she ran for the other lantern, tossing it into a stall on the other side of the barn. She heard the lantern smash with another tinkling of glass. Racing to the door, she grabbed the bar.

  “No!” he bellowed, plunging after her. He knocked her off her feet in a hard blow across her shoulders that sent her sprawling. As she rolled away from him, she saw flames leap in the second stall across the barn from the first where a fire was flickering now.

  She jumped up, attempting to lift the bar again. His hands caught her, and he flung her around, slapping her and knocking her down.

  “Dammit, you’ll help me put these fires out before my barn and all my saddles burn up!”

  She snatched up the pitchfork and backed away from him.

  “Your barn is burning. You better forget about me if you want to save it.”

  “Damn you. You’ll pay for this. I’ll take it out of your hide and your sister’s and that weak old man. You’ll pay until you beg me to stop.”