by Nora Roberts
Jim loosened the rope around the saddle horn, then lifted Sarah to the ground. “Brought you a present.” “Sarah, my dear.” His mouth grim, Carlson tugged at her bonds. “I’m speechless. There’s no way I could ever…” He let his words trail off and began to massage the raw skin of her wrists. “He must be drunk.
Stable that horse, damn you,” he shouted at Jim. “Then come inside. You’ve a great deal to answer for.”
It stunned her, left her limp, when Jim merely shrugged and led his horse away. It must be a joke, a bizarre joke, she thought, bringing her trembling hands to her lips. But it wasn’t. She knew it was much too deadly to be a joke.
“Samuel-”
“My dear, I don’t know what to say.” He slipped a supporting arm around her waist. “I can’t begin to apologize for my brother’s outrageous behavior. Are you hurt? Dear Lord, your dress is torn.” He had her by the shoulders then, and the look in his eyes froze her blood. “Did he touch you, molest you?”
She managed to shake her head, once, then twice.
Then the words came. “Samuel, he killed my father. It was for the gold. There’s gold in the mine. He must have found out and he-he murdered my father.”
She was breathless now, her hands clinging to his trim black vest. He only stared at her, stared until she wanted to scream. “Samuel, you must believe me.”
“You’re overwrought,” he said stiffly. “And no wonder. Come in out of the heat.”
“But he-”
“You needn’t worry about Jim.” He led her inside the thick adobe walls. “He won’t bother you again. You have my word. I want you to wait in my office.” His voice was quiet, soothing, as he led her past his mother’s portrait and into a room. “Try to relax. I’ll take care of everything.”
“Samuel, please be careful. He might-he could hurt you.”
“No.” He patted her hand as he eased her into a chair. “He’ll do exactly what I tell him.”
When the door shut, she covered her face with her hands. For a moment she let the hysteria she’d fought off take control. He’d intended to kill her. She was certain of it, from the way he’d looked at her, the way he’d smiled at her. Why in God’s name had he brought her here, where she would be protected by Samuel?
Protected. After letting out a shaky breath, she waited until her heartbeat leveled and the need to scream passed. She was safe now. But it wasn’t over.
She closed her eyes briefly. It was far from over. It was madness. Jim Carlson was as mad as his poor mother had been, but instead of killing himself he had killed her father. She wanted to weep, to let the new, aching grief come. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t weep, and she couldn’t sit.
Rising, she began to pace. The room was small but beautifully furnished. There were delicate porcelain figurines and a painting in fragile pastels. It reflected Samuel’s elegant taste and eye for beauty. How un-alike the brothers were, she thought.
Cain and Abel.
With a hand on her heart, she rushed to the door. She could never have borne the guilt if one brother killed another over her.
But the door was locked. For a moment she thought it was only her nerves making her fumble. After a deep breath she tried the knob again. It resisted.
Whirling around, she stared at the room. Locked in? But why? For her own protection? Samuel must have thought she would be safer behind a locked door until he came back for her.
And if it was Jim who came back with the key? Her heart thudding in her throat, she began a frantic search for a weapon.
She pulled out desk drawers, pushing ruthlessly through papers. If not a pistol, she thought, then a knife, even a letter opener. She would not be defenseless.
Not again. She tugged open the middle drawer, and the brass pulls knocked against the glossy mahogany. Her hand froze when she saw the miniature. Her miniature.
Like a sleepwalker, she reached for it, staring blindly.
It was the self-portrait that she had painted the year before, the one she had shipped to her father for Christmas. The one, Sarah realized as her fingers closed over it, that he had shown with pride to his friends in town. The one that had been missing from his possessions. Missing because it had been taken by his murderer.
When the key turned in the lock, she didn’t bother to close the drawer or to hide what she held in her hand. Instead, she rose and faced him.
“It was you,” she murmured as Samuel Carlson closed and locked the door behind him. “You killed my father.”
Chapter Fifteen
Carlson crossed the room until only the desk was between them. “Sarah.” His voice was almost a sigh, a sigh touched with patience. In his hand he carried a delicate cup filled with fragrant tea. But she noted that he had strapped on his gun. “I realize how upset you must be after Jim’s inexcusable behavior. Now, why don’t you sit down, compose yourself?”
“You killed my father,” she repeated. It was rage she felt now, waves of it.
“That’s ridiculous.” The words were said gently. “I haven’t killed anyone. Here, my dear. I’ve brought you some tea. It should help calm you.”
The quiet sincerity in his eyes caused her to falter. He must have sensed it, because he smiled and stepped forward. Instantly she backed away. “Why was this in your desk?”
Carlson looked at the miniature in her hand. “A woman should never intrude on a man’s personal belongings.” His voice became indulgent as he set the cup on the desk. “But since you have, I’ll confess. I can be faulted for being overly romantic, I suppose.
The moment I saw it, I fell in love with you. The moment I saw your face, I wanted you.” He held out a hand, palm up, as if he were asking for a dance. “Come, Sarah, you can’t condemn me for that.”
Confused, she shook her head. “Tell me how this came to be in your drawer when it belonged to my father.”
Impatience clouded his face, and he dropped his hand to his side. “Isn’t baring my soul enough for you? You knew, right from the beginning, you knew the way I felt about you. You deceived me.” There was more than impatience in his face now. Something else was building in him. Something that had the bright, hot taste of fear clogging her throat.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Samuel.” She spaced her words carefully and kept her eyes on his. “But you’re right. I’m upset, and I’m not myself. I’d prefer to go home now and discuss all of this later.” With the miniature still clutched in her hand, she stepped around the desk and toward the door. The violence with which he grabbed her and shoved her back against the wall had her head reeling.
“It’s too late. Jim’s interference has changed everything. His interference, and your prying. I was patient with you, Sarah. Now it’s too late.”
His face was close to hers-close enough for her to see clearly what was in his eyes. She wondered, as the blood drained slowly from her face, how it was that she’d never seen it before. The madness was bright and deadly. She tried to speak and found she had to swallow first.
“Samuel, you’re hurting me.”
“I would have made you a queen.” He took one hand and brought it up to stroke her face. She cringed, but his eyes warned her not to move. “I would have given you everything a woman could want. Silk.” He traced a finger over her cheekbone. “Diamonds.” Then he ran it lightly down her throat. “Gold.” His hand tightened abruptly around her windpipe. Before she could begin to struggle, it was loosened again. “Gold, Sarah. It belonged to me, truly to me. My grandfather had no right to lose that part of my heritage.
And your father…he had no right to deny me what was already mine.”
“He did it for me.” Perhaps she could calm him, if only she could remain calm herself, before it was too late. “He only wanted to see that I was taken care of.”
“Of course.” He nodded, as if he were pleased that she understood. “Of course he did. As I do. It would have been yours as much as mine. I would never have let you suffer because I had taken it back
. As my wife, you would have had every luxury. We would have gone back east together. That was always my plan. I was going to follow you back east and court you. But you stayed. You should never have stayed, Sarah. This isn’t the place for you. I knew it the moment I saw your picture. It was there, in that miserable little cabin, beside the cot. I found it while I was looking for the deed to the mine.”
His face changed again. He looked petulant now, like a boy who had been denied an extra piece of pie.
“I was very annoyed that my brother and Donley killed Matt. Clumsy. They were only to…convince him to turn over the deed. Then, of course, it was up to me to think of causing the cave-in to cover up what they’d done. I never found the deed. But I found your picture.”
She didn’t think he was aware of how viciously his fingers were digging into her arms. She was almost certain he was no longer aware of how much he was telling her. She remained silent and still, knowing her only hope now was time.
“Delicate,” he murmured. “Such a delicate face. The innocence shining in the eyes, the soft curve of the mouth. It was a lie, wasn’t it, Sarah?” The violence sprang back into his face, and she could only shake her head and wait. “There was no delicacy, no innocence. You toyed with me, offering me smiles, only smiles, while you gave yourself to Redman like a whore. He should be dead for touching what belonged to me. You should both be dead.”
She prepared to scream. She prepared to fight for what she knew was her life.
“Sam!” The banging on the door brought with it a mixture of fear and relief.
Swearing, Carlson dragged Sarah to the door to unlock it. “Goddamn it, I told you to go back and get rid of the wagon and team.”
“Riders coming in.” The sweat on Jim’s face attested to the fact that he had already ridden, and ridden hard. “It’s Redman and the sheriff, with some men from town.” He glanced at Sarah. “They’ll be looking for her.”
When Sarah tried to break away, Samuel locked an arm around her throat. “You’ve ruined everything, bringing her here.”
“I only did it ‘cause you wanted her. I could’ve taken care of her back on the road. Hell, I could’ve taken care of her the night we torched her shed, but you said you didn’t want her hurt none.”
Carlson tightened his grip as Sarah clawed at his arm. Her vision grayed from lack of air. As if from a distance, she heard the voices, one mixing into the other.
“How long?”
“Ten minutes, no more… Kill her now.”
“Not here, you idiot… Hold them off… In the hills.”
Sarah’s last thought before she lost consciousness was that Jake was coming, but too late.
“You listen to me.” Barker stopped the men on the rise above the Carlson ranch. But it was Jake he was looking at. “I know you’d like to ride in there hellbent, but you take a minute to think. If they’ve got her, we’ve got to go slow.”
“They’ve got her.” In his mind, the Carlson brothers were already dead.
“Then let’s make sure we get her back in one piece.
Will, I want you to break off, ease on over to the Barn.
John, I’d be obliged if you’d circle around the back. I don’t want any shooting until it’s necessary.” With a nod, he spurred his horse.
Jim watched them coming and wiped the sweat off his brow. His men were all out on the range. Not that they’d have been any good, he thought. The only one who’d have backed them against the sheriff was Doney. And he was dead. Wetting his lips, he levered the rifle in the window.
He had to wait until they got close. That was what Sam had told him. Wait until they got close. Then he was to kill as many as he could. Starting with Redman.
Sweat dripped down into his eyes. His fingers twitched.
Sam had sent Donley to kill Redman, Jim remembered. But it was Donley who’d been buried. Now he was going to do it. He wet his lips when he caught Jake in the sight. He was going to do it right. But nerves had his finger jerking on the trigger.
Jake felt the bullet whiz past his cheek. Like lightning, he kicked one foot free of the stirrup to slide halfway down the side of his horse. Gun drawn, he rode toward the house while Barker shouted orders.
He could hear the men scrambling for cover and returning fire, but his mind was on one thing and one thing alone.
Getting inside to Sarah.
Outside the doors, he leaped off. When he kicked them open, his second gun was drawn. The hall and the foyer were empty. He could hear the shouts of men and peppering gunfire. With a quick glance for any sign of her, he started up the stairs.
Jim Carlson’s back was to him when he broke open the door.
“Where is she?” Jake didn’t flinch when a bullet from outside plowed into the wall beside him.
From his crouched position, Jim turned slowly.
“Sam’s got her.” With a grin, he swung his rifle up.
For months he’d wanted another chance to kill Jake Redman. Now he took it.
He was still grinning as he fell forward. Jake slid his smoking guns back in their holsters. Moving quickly, he began to search the house.
Barker met him on the steps. “She ain’t here. I found this on the floor.” In his hand he held Sarah’s miniature.
Jake’s eyes flicked up to Barker’s. They held there only seconds, but Barker knew he would never forget the look in them. Later he would tell his wife it was the look of a man whose soul had gotten loose.
Turning on his heel, Jake headed outside, with Barker close behind.
“Oh, God.” For the first time since Jake had known him, Barker moved with speed. Pushing past Jake, he raced to where two of his men were carrying Will Metcalf.
“He isn’t dead.” John Cody laid Will down and held his head. “But we have to get him back to town, to the doc.”
Barker crouched down as Will’s eyes fluttered open.
“You’re going to be all right, son.”
“Took me by surprise,” Will managed, struggling not to gasp at the pain as Cody pressed a pad to the hole in his shoulder. “Was Sam Carlson, Sheriff. He had her-I saw he had her on the horse. Think they headed west.”
“Good job, Will.” Barker used his own bandanna to wipe the sweat off his deputy’s brow. “One of you men hitch up a wagon, get some blankets. You get this boy to the doctor, John. Redman and I’ll go after Carlson.”
But when he stood, all he saw of Jake was the dust his mustang kicked up as he galloped west.
Sarah came to slowly, nausea rising in her throat. Moaning, she choked it back and tried to lift a hand to her spinning head. Both wrists were bound tight to the saddle horn.
For a moment she thought she was still with Jim.
Then she remembered.
The horse was climbing, picking its way up through dusty, dung-colored rock. She watched loose dirt and stones dislodged by the horse’s hooves fall down a dizzying ravine. The man behind her was breathing hard. Fighting for calm, she tried to mark the trail they were taking and remember it. When she escaped-and she would-she didn’t intend to wander helplessly through the rocks.
He stopped the horse near the edge of a canyon.
She could see the thin silver line of a river far below. An eagle called as he swooped into the wide opening, then returned to a nest built in the high rock wall. “Samuel, please-” She cried out when he pulled the rope from around her wrists and dragged her roughly to the ground. One look warned her that the calm, sane words she had meant to use would never reach him.
There was a bright, glazed light in his eyes. His face was pale and drenched with sweat. His hair was dark with it. She watched his eyes dart here and there, as if he expected something to leap out from behind a huddle of rock.
The man who had swept off his hat and kissed her fingers wasn’t here with her now. If he had ever been part of Samuel Carlson, he had vanished. The man who stood over her was mad, and as savage as any beast that lived in the hills.
“What are you going to do?
”
“He’s coming.” Still breathing rapidly, Carlson swiped a hand over his mouth. “I saw him behind us. When he comes for you, I’ll be ready.” He reached down to drag her to her feet.
“I’m going to kill him, Sarah. Kill him like a dog.” He pulled out his gun and rubbed the barrel against her cheek, gently, like a caress. “You’re going to watch. I want you to watch me kill him. Then you’ll understand. It’s important that you understand. A man like that deserves to die by a gun. He’s nothing, less than nothing. A crude gunslinger with Indian blood. He put his hands on you.” A whimper escaped her as he dragged a hand through her hair. “I’m going to kill him for you, Sarah. Then we’re going away, you and I.”
“No.” She wrenched free. The canyon was at her back when she faced him. If she had stumbled another step she would have fallen back into nothing. There was fear. The taste of it was bitter in her throat. But it wasn’t for herself. Jake would come, she knew, and someone would die. “I won’t go anywhere with you. It’s over, Samuel. You must see that. They know what you’ve done, and they’ll hunt you down.”
“A potbellied sheriff?” He laughed and, before she could evade him, closed his hand over her arm. “Not likely. This is a big country, Sarah. They won’t find us.”
“I won’t go with you.” The pain when he squeezed her arm nearly buckled her knees. “I’ll get away.” “If I must, I’ll keep you locked up, the way my mother was locked up. For your own good.”
She heard the horse even as he did and screamed out a warning. “No, Jake, he’ll kill you!” Then she screamed again, this time in pain, as Carlson bent her arm behind her back. Calmly he put the gun to her temple.
“It’s her I’ll kill, Redman. Come out slow and keep your hands where I can see them, or the first bullet goes in her brain.” He twisted her arm ruthlessly because he wanted Jake to hear her cry out again. He wanted Jake to hear the pain. “Now, Redman, or I’ll kill her and toss her body over the edge.”
“No. Oh, no.” Tears blurred her vision as she watched Jake step out into the open. “Please don’t. It won’t gain you anything to kill him. I’ll go with you.” She tried to turn her head to look into Carlson’s eyes.
