Love in the Wind

by Madeline Baker

  “Le mita pila, kola,” Iron Wing said in the Lakota tongue. “Thank you, my friend.”

  Standing Bull led his horse forward. It was a big blood bay, with long legs, a deep chest, and large nostrils to drink the wind.

  “He is truly a fine horse,” Iron Wing acknowledged, taking the reins. But he made no attempt to mount. Standing Bull was right. He was in no condition to travel. He was weak from the blood he had lost. His legs were unsteady, his vision blurred.

  He was of no use to anyone just now, Iron Wing admitted sourly. He could not ride. He could not fight. And there was a nagging pain in his chest, a pain that would grow steadily worse, rendering him weaker and weaker each day unless he gave the wound time to heal.

  With a wry grin, Iron Wing handed the reins to Standing Bull.

  “I think I will rest with you awhile after all.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Katy dropped heavily onto the blanket that Carlito spread for her. With each passing mile, she knew a greater sense of hopelessness and despair. During the last five days, they had passed through land familiar to Katy, and the pain it caused her was overpowering. To be so close to home! If only she could find a way to escape, she would fly to her mother’s arms and never leave. But escape was impossible. Her hands and feet were tied constantly; each day, one of the outlaws checked her bonds to make sure they were secure.

  She was weeping softly when the outlaw came up behind her. Startled, Katy whirled around, and then relaxed when she saw it was not Carlito, but the young bandit known as Tom. He was a mild-mannered youth who spoke little, but of late he had taken to looking after her. She had done nothing to encourage him, but she was glad of his presence, because it kept the loathsome Carlito at bay.

  “Here, lady,” Tom said, handing her a cup of hot coffee. “Drink that, and then get some rest. We’ll be heading out early in the morning. Herrera’s is only about twenty miles due south.”

  Twenty miles! Despair rose in Katy’s eyes. Desperate for help, she took Tom’s hand in hers and pressed it to her breast.

  “Can’t you do something?” she pleaded. “Please don’t let El Lobo sell me to that awful man. For God’s sake, I was going to be a nun!”

  Tom stared at the woman weeping before him. Her bound hands were so small and helpless, he felt a sudden wave of sympathy for her. He had always taken women as he found them, using them to satisfy the needs of his flesh. He had never known a good girl from a good family. And it was for damn sure he had never known a girl who wanted to be a nun.

  “Please help me,” Katy begged. She looked up at him through blue eyes bright with tears, making him feel strangely protective toward her. The heat of her breast through her tattered poncho filled his palm with a pulsing heat.

  “Lady,” he said thickly, “I… What do you want me to do?”

  “Please help me get away. I’ll do whatever you ask. Anything at all, only please don’t let El Lobo sell me to a brothel. I’ll…I’ll be your woman if you want me, I promise.”

  His woman. The thought made him almost lightheaded. Imagine, having this well-bred woman for his own. She didn’t look like much now, with her face dirty and stained with tears, but he’d just bet she would be an eyeful when she was cleaned up.

  “You mean it?” Tom asked suspiciously.

  “Yes.”

  Roughly, he grabbed Katy by the shoulders and pulled her close. His mouth was hard, his breath reeked of cigarettes and whiskey, but she did not turn away from his kiss.

  “Okay,” he said, releasing her. “I’ll come for you when it’s my turn to keep watch. Be ready.”

  For the first time, Katy felt a small flicker of hope. If Tom could get her safely away from El Lobo, maybe she could persuade him to take her home.

  Katy was wide awake when Tom came for her. He quickly cut her hands and feet free, then they crept quietly out of camp to where Tom had two horses waiting. Cautiously, they led the horses away from the outlaw camp, until they were out of hearing distance. Then they mounted and rode swiftly through the dark night. Since Iron Wing’s death, only one man guarded the outlaw camp. With luck, they would be miles away before their absence was discovered.

  Katy clutched at her horse’s mane as the animal raced over the darkened ground in the wake of Tom’s horse. It was frightening, racing madly through the night, unable to see anything but the shadowed outline of trees and shrubs and the man ahead of her. At such speed, a fall could be fatal, and Katy closed her eyes, not wanting to see what was coming. The wind stung her cheeks and once a pebble struck her forehead. And still they rode, the muffled sound of their horses’ hooves sounding like thunder in the quiet night.

  She was exhausted when, at last, Tom reined his gelding to a halt. Dismounting, he pulled Katy from the saddle and led her into a cave recessed deep in the side of a brush-covered slope. Shoving a blanket into her hands, he left her to tend the horses, tethering them out of sight behind a thick stand of young cottonwood trees.

  Katy watched him warily as he entered the cave. She had promised to be his woman, would have promised him anything in the world to save herself from the degrading life of a whore, but now, alone in the cave with him, she knew she could not fulfill that promise. He was a stranger, an outlaw wanted for heinous crimes, and she was terribly afraid of him.

  “Get some sleep,” Tom said gruffly. “We’re gonna be on the trail again before sunup.”

  Nodding vigorously, Katy rolled into the blanket and closed her eyes. She could feel the bandit watching her and she stirred self-consciously, wishing he would stop staring at her.

  “Go to sleep, girl,” Tom said, chuckling with wry amusement. “I won’t be bothering you tonight, but I can’t help lookin’. You’re a mighty pretty woman. Mighty pretty.”

  Cheeks flushing, Katy turned away from him. After a long while, she fell into a deep sleep.

  It seemed only moments had passed before Tom was shaking her awake.

  “Get up, girl,” he said curtly. “We’re leaving.”

  Groaning softy, Katy stood up and rolled her blanket into a tight cylinder, then followed the outlaw outside. The horses were saddled and ready, their breath coming out in great white vapors as they snorted and pawed the earth. Tom secured Katy’s bedroll behind her saddle, lifted her onto her horse. She bit her lip as his hand caressed her thigh.

  Another day of riding until dark. Another night of seeking shelter in a secluded place, of sleeping on the hard ground.

  The afternoon of the fourth day, they arrived at a small ranch. Judging by the look of it, Katy thought the place had been long deserted. The house was badly in need of paint, the windows were broken, there was a hole in the roof. The barn door was hanging by a single hinge. An entire section of fence was missing from the single corral located beside the barn.

  “This is home,” Tom announced, stepping from the saddle. Removing his hat, he slapped it against his thigh to shake away the dust. “It ain’t much now, but it has real possibilities.”

  Katy nodded as she dismounted. It wasn’t really such a bad place. There were some trees and the remains of what had once been a garden. The water Tom drew from the well was cold and clear.

  Katy was apprehensive as she followed Tom into the house. Looking around, she saw a large parlor, a sunny kitchen, and a door that lead to a bedroom. What little furniture the house contained was crude and covered with a thick layer of yellow dust.

  “It’s…nice,” Katy said lamely.

  Tom nodded. “Yeah. Why don’t you clean the place up a little while I go hunt us up some meat?” His eyes drilled into hers. “I won’t be gone long.”

  Katy nodded. She understood exactly what he was saying. He was warning her not to try to run away.

  A search through some cupboards produced a couple of rags and Katy began to dust the furniture. When that was done, she unpacked Tom’s saddlebags, putting what little food they contained in the kitchen. His extra clothing she placed in the scarred oak dresser in the bedroom. S
he spared a brief glance at the big double bed. How could she let Tom touch her? She would never love him, would never love any man again. How could she after knowing Iron Wing? No man in the world could compare with his muscular perfection. Closing her eyes, she summoned his countenance to mind: the high proud cheekbones, the fine straight nose, the strong square jaw, the wide sensual mouth that had given her hours of pleasure…

  Abruptly, she opened her eyes. Remembering was a futile, painful endeavor. Returning to the kitchen, she began to wash the few mismatched dishes and utensils stored in the cupboard. She was washing the last of the dented pots and pans when Tom returned with a pair of rabbits and a quail slung over his shoulder.

  “Can you cook?” he asked doubtfully.

  “Yes.”

  “Damn!” he exclaimed. “Good-looking and useful to boot.” Grinning, he handed her the rabbits and the bird, sat on one of the rickety kitchen chairs while she skinned the rabbits for dinner.

  They ate in silence. Katy found it hard to concentrate on her food. Glancing out the kitchen window, she saw that it would soon be dark. Before long, it would be time for bed, and then Tom would claim the reward she had foolishly promised him.

  Sliding a covert glance at the outlaw, she saw by his expression that he was thinking along the same lines.

  “Tell me about yourself,” Katy said, hoping to put off the inevitable. “Where are you from?”

  “Texas,” Tom replied.

  “Oh. Do you have any family?”

  “Yeah. Whole passel of kinfolk still living at home.”

  “Do they know… I mean…” Katy’s voice trailed off. It would not do to ask the wrong questions and offend him.

  “You’re wondering if they know about me, and how I got to be what I am,” he guessed.

  “Yes, but I don’t mean to pry. It’s really none of my business.”

  Tom laughed. “I guess you got a right to know what kind of a man you’ve hooked up with,” he mused good-naturedly. “I fell in with El Lobo and his bunch because I was tired of working from sunup to sundown with nothing to show for it but calluses. I been riding with El Lobo for nigh onto two years. He’s a mean bastard when he’s drunk, but otherwise he’s okay. But, hell, lately I’ve had the urge to settle down. I can’t go back to Texas, but this place ain’t bad.”

  “Did you ever kill anyone?”

  “When I had to. You got any more questions?” he asked gruffly, his good humor gone.

  “No.”

  Tom sat back in his chair, smoking a long black cigar, while Katy cleared the table and did the dishes. Knowing what was to come, Katy dawdled over the dishes, washing each one thoroughly, wiping them past the time when they were dry, stacking them neatly in the cupboard.

  Tom watched her with an indulgent grin, well aware of what she was doing. But he was a patient man. She could stall all she wanted. She was his now, and he could wait.

  When the last dish had been put away, Tom stood up, stretching. “Been a long day,” he drawled. “I’m ready for bed.”

  Katy swallowed hard as his long arm reached out to circle her waist. She felt her heart began to beat wildly as he drew her close.

  “You gonna keep your end of the bargain,” he asked, “or shall I take you back to El Lobo?”

  “I’ll keep it,” Katy said tremulously. “But please don’t hurt me.”

  “Now what makes you think I’d wanna hurt a little bitty thing like you?”

  “I don’t know,” she answered quickly. “I’m sorry.”

  His smile was cruel as he grabbed a handful of her long hair and jerked her head back. For the first time, Katy noticed the cruel slant of his mouth, the sadistic gleam in his light brown eyes.

  “We’ll get along just fine, so long as you remember I’m the boss. You savvy?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” He released his hold on her hair and walked into the bedroom. When Katy did not immediately follow, he beckoned to her with his finger, and she stumbled toward him, numb with fear.

  “That’s a good girl,” Tom said. “Now undress.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Do it.” The words were as soft as velvet, as unyielding as steel.

  Hands shaking, Katy began to untie the lacings at the neck of her dress. Slowly, she let the garment drop around her feet. She wore no underwear, and Tom sucked in a deep breath as her smooth, creamy flesh was revealed. His eyes glowed hotly as he slowly stood up. His steps were unsteady as he roughly pulled her close. A vile obscenity rose in his throat as he began to kiss her face and breasts, unable to believe his good fortune. Herrera, eat your heart out, he thought as he nipped at Katy’s slender neck.

  Katy shuddered with revulsion as Tom’s lips and tongue washed over her body, and when he began to fumble with his belt, she ran out of the room, and into El Lobo’s arms.

  Tom whirled around as Katy screamed, and died as El Lobo shot him in the chest.

  “Get dressed, chiquita,” El Lobo ordered, pushing her away from him. “And then fix us some food. We have been traveling all day to find you.”

  Katy dressed hurriedly, awkward in her haste. Carlito leered at her all the while, his little pig-eyes bright with desire. He followed her into the kitchen, stood at her elbow while she fried up bacon and beans for El Lobo and his men.

  Katy cringed as Pablo gave her a sharp slap on her buttocks. “Welcome home, puta,” he said with a leer. “Look for me in your bed when Herrera puts you to work.”

  Katy glared at the outlaw who had killed Iron Wing. She searched her mind for some retort, but there were no words vile enough to convey her hatred or her contempt.

  El Lobo’s men lounged on the floor, eating and drinking, laughing, as Katy served them. Hands reached out to caress her legs, her buttocks, her breasts. The outlaws talked about her as if she were no more than a piece of property, speculating on how much Herrera would charge for her services, and if she would be worth the price. They tried in vain to convince El Lobo to let them sample her delights, but he adamantly refused.

  “What would be left to sell once you were through with her?” El Lobo said, chuckling. “Too many stallions can ruin a mare.”

  Katy did not sleep that night. Hands tied behind her back, ankles bound and lashed to the bed, she stared up at the sagging ceiling. All was lost, and she was destined to become a whore in a border town brothel. She would never see her mother again, would never associate with decent, god-fearing people. Henceforth, she would be in the company of outlaws, men who earned their living by cruel and devious means. Better she should have stayed with the Cheyenne and perished in one of their fights against the Army than live a life of shame and degradation.

  Katy prayed that night as she had not prayed in months; prayed that she would die in the night and thus be spared the awful life that awaited her. But her frantic petitions were denied, and when dawn came, El Lobo released her bonds and boosted her onto the back of a horse, and once again the outlaws turned south toward Herrera’s.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The town appeared as if my magic. One minute there was nothing in sight but sand and sage, and the next moment the town was there, crouched against the desert floor like some hulking beast ready to pounce on the first unwary traveler.

  It was a decidedly ugly place, Katy thought listlessly. The buildings, mostly cribs and cantinas, were crude and unpainted; constructed of wood or adobe or both, they had been erected in haphazard fashion along both sides of the wide dirt road that was the town’s only street. A small Catholic church topped by a tall sunbleached wooden cross stood at the far end of the town. Katy wondered if the dregs of humanity that would certainly be found in such a town even knew the church existed. A few ramshackle houses were strung out behind the church.

  There was no sign of life on the street other than a lone horse standing hipshot at the rail of the nearest saloon. In the distance, well away from the town, stood a fortress of some kind.

  El Lobo reined his horse to a halt
before a large, two-story building that was located at the far end of the dusty road. A weather-beaten sign hung over the unpainted door.

  The letters, barely visible, made Katy shiver with apprehension.

  “HERRERA’S,” the sign proclaimed. “BEST WHORES SOUTH OF THE BORDER.”

  El Lobo dismounted. Stretching hugely, he lifted Katy from her horse and hustled her up the sagging stairs and into the dimly-lit building.

  Katy’s eyes widened with surprise as she stepped into a spacious room. She had expected to find a dirty, dingy brothel smelling of whiskey and sweat. She could not have been more mistaken. Heavy red velvet draperies covered the tall windows, shutting out the scorching heat of the sun. A thick carpet muffled her footsteps as El Lobo pushed her into the next room. Gilt-edged mirrors hung from every wall, reflecting the shimmering crystal chandeliers that were suspended from the high beamed ceiling. Carved mahogany sofas and high-backed armchairs covered in rich red brocade were arranged in intimate groupings. Shiny brass spittoons were placed at strategic intervals around the room. Several paintings depicting amply endowed women in various stages of undress hung behind a long curved bar.

  Katy shook her head in disgust as she took in the gaudy colors and rich appointments. Even without being told, she would have recognized the place for what it was.

  There was the sound of footsteps and the jingle of spurs as El Lobo’s men crowded around the bar, their voices shattering the heavy stillness.

  Shortly, a blowsy, over-painted woman in a brilliant green silk wrapper appeared at the head of the staircase.

  “Quiet, pigs,” she ordered brusquely. “Can’t you see we’re closed? Come back tonight.”

  “Rosa!” El Lobo exclaimed. “Always the queen of hospitality.”

  “Lobo, is that you?” the woman squealed, and hurried down the long stairway to throw herself into the outlaw’s open arms. “Where have you been, you scoundrel?” she demanded petulantly. “I haven’t seen you since last winter.”

  “Ah, and what a winter it was,” El Lobo said, laughing loudly as he pinched the woman’s ample rump. “Nothing but food, sex and whiskey every day. If only I could spend all my winters lying snug in your bed.”