The Wayward Heart

by Jill Gregory

  The hours dragged interminably past, and still they rode, on and on beneath the hot, relentless sun, the ruddy mountain walls rising up to engulf them, the sky a blue-mirrored glare overhead, stretching into eternity.

  Bryony’s dark hair had tumbled loose from its pretty chignon to hang limply in her face. Her throat felt so parched she found it difficult to swallow. When at last the band halted by a stream that wound its way along a sloping, rocky path studded with cactus plants and scrub brush, she felt a kind of numb relief.

  The horses drank thirstily from the stream, while the highwaymen gulped at their canteens. But when the leader of the band, with a bawdy wink and a grin at his companions, wiped his mouth after drinking lustily, and offered his canteen to Bryony, she shoved it away disgustedly and instead sank down beside the stream to cup her hands and sip the icy droplets from them. The highwaymen all roared with laughter.

  “So, you won’t drink from my canteen, eh, little filly? Never mind! Soon enough you’ll be drinking in my kisses, like it or not! Might as well get used to the idea.”

  From her kneeling position by the stream, Bryony raised her head to stare at him in hatred. Her green eyes sparkled with fury as she studied the outlaw leader.

  Once removed from the stagecoach trail, the men had removed their masks, and now she saw her captors plainly. The leader had thick, heavy features beneath those wicked blue eyes; his nose was bulbous, his lips thin and sneering. With his shock of gold hair and those vivid eyes, some might have thought him attractive, in a bold, vulgar way, but to Bryony, the sight of him was repulsive.

  “I’d rather die than have you touch me. You’re no better than an animal—you and your thieving friends!”

  The leader’s eyes gleamed. “It don’t matter what you think, little filly, because we’re going to have you one way or ‘nother! And as for dying, we’ll see about that later. But we won’t let you die until we’re good and ready, and I’ve a hunch that won’t be for a spell. Right, boys?”

  At these ominous words, Bryony’s terror bubbled over. Leaping up, she ran wildly, bounding down the slope. Even as she fled, she knew it was useless, but desperation drove her and for a few brief seconds she clattered over rocks and shrubs, scraping her hands and elbows on rough-edged boulders in frantic haste. She heard a yell behind her, and panic shook her. She ran faster, reckless now with fear, but a moment later she heard a triumphant shout, and the next thing she knew, she was tackled by a hurtling, heavy weight and went down hard in the gritty sand.

  With a scream, she tried to twist free, fighting with all her strength, but her captor turned her roughly onto her back on the trail and held her there securely, his weight pressing her into the hard ground. His small, dark eyes glinted with glee as he stared down into her face.

  Bryony recognized him—it was the highwayman who’d worn the red bandana, the one who’d ordered her and Dr. Brady to be silent. He was burly and pug-nosed, with a stubby dark growth of beard on his swarthy face.

  “Please,” she cried, struggling frantically to throw him off. “Please, let me go!”

  “Go! You’re crazy, lady! You’d jest die of thirst in this desert before you ever caught sight of another living creature, unless it was a band of Apaches, in which case you’d be better off dying from thirst. And Zeke already told you that we’re not going to let you die—not until we’re good and ready.”

  His eyes, bright as pennies, glimmered as his gaze slid over her body, raptly studying her breasts as they rose and fell heavily with the effort of her struggle.

  “Come on, now. Don’t fight it. You’ll only make things worse on yerself. There’s no way me and my pards are going to let you off. It’s not every day we get our hands on such a fine-looking filly, and we mean to enjoy you.”

  To Bryony’s horror, his hands slid toward her breasts and she screamed.

  “Stop. No! Don’t do this—”

  The outlaw leader’s voice rang out angrily from somewhere above. “What the hell are you doin’, Ned? I told you to fetch her back! We don’t have all day to wait around for you!”

  “Aw, Zeke! I’m jest having a little fun! She’s sure a beaut, all right.”

  “Damn it, we don’t have time for that now,” the leader shouted from above. “Get off of her and bring her back pronto! Another hour’s hard ridin’ and we’ll be at Gilly’s. Then you can have all the fun you want.”

  “Jest give me ten minutes with her right now,” Ned begged urgently. “Jest ten minutes!”

  “Later! You’ve got ten seconds to get her back to the horses, or we’re leavin’ you here without your mount. You savvy?”

  Reluctantly, Ned scrambled to his feet and stared down at Bryony.

  “Git up, lady. You and me’ll have to wait ‘til later to git more acquainted.”

  Seizing her arm, he yanked her to her feet, hustling her up the sloping trail alongside of him. Bryony had no more will to resist. She felt weak and drained from the effort of her foolish escape attempt, and she barely had the strength to stumble up the stony path. Her hands and elbows were cut and bleeding, her ankle ached painfully where it had twisted when Ned threw her to the ground. She was exhausted, almost beyond caring. Silently, she allowed Zeke to hoist her onto the saddle. Deep inside, a cold, horrible dread pierced her heart.

  She knew all too well what lay ahead of her, and she knew there was no hope of escape.

  For almost another hour they rode up and down zigzagging, tortuous mountain paths, until at last they reached the rim of a deep, purple canyon. At Zeke’s command, the outlaws began their descent, the tired horses picking their way carefully along the steep ravine. Despite the fact that new terrors awaited her when they reached their destination, Bryony longed for the end of the journey.

  At last they reached the bottom of the canyon. The band headed through a narrow, rock-walled passage that had been invisible from the top. It was like a secret hole in the heart of the canyon walls, and Bryony stared in wonder as they rode single file through the small, hidden opening. When they finally emerged from its narrow, suffocating confinement, they were on a cactus-covered bluff, having ridden completely through the canyon walls. It appeared that the hidden passageway was the only entrance to the secluded bluff, for on all other sides rose a sheer rock wall that would be impossible to scale or descend.

  Zeke noticed her staring at those steep, towering walls, and chuckled softly in her ear.

  “There’s no way anyone can climb those rocks from either side, little filly. The only way in or out of this place is through that passage we just rode through, and even that’s hidden from above. Pretty smart, huh? This way, we only get invited guests at Gilly’s. Know what I mean?”

  With a sinking heart, she turned her face away from his triumphant, sneering countenance. Yes, she knew all too well what he meant.

  There wasn’t a chance in the world that anyone would find her here, or that she could get away.

  Through the blur of tears she saw a ramshackle wooden building ahead, set well back from the edge of the bluff. There were horses tethered outside, and she heard raucous sounds of merriment from within.

  Zeke jerked her down from the saddle, snickering as she landed upon weak, unsteady legs and almost collapsed. Half carrying her, he dragged her up a dirt path to the rickety wooden door, shoving it open without hesitation. The other highwaymen followed noisily.

  “Look here, boys,” Zeke announced, pushing Bryony roughly ahead of him into the noisy, smoke-filled room. “We’ve brought back this here pretty little city girl, and she’s real anxious and eager to meet you all.”

  Chapter Five

  The men in Gilly’s grew strangely quiet. They stared at the trembling young woman thrust suddenly into their midst. Their eyes widened with admiration as they gazed upon her dusty, disheveled form.

  Despite the fact that her hair had come loose from its chignon and was trailing haphazardly about her face and shoulders in dark, wispy curls, despite the fact that her skin was ca
ked with dust and sand, that her gown was torn at the knees and covered with grit, and that her hands were scratched and bloodied, there was not a single doubt that before them stood a superbly beautiful woman.

  Her lavender gown was so damp with perspiration that it clung tightly to every curve in her slender body. Her large green eyes seemed brilliant against the pallor of her skin, and her full lips, and tumbling midnight hair further heightened her loveliness. The men stared, fascinated, at the luscious creature before them. Every one of them yearned for the opportunity to bed her, and there wasn’t one among them who wouldn’t kill to have his way.

  Bryony stood as if transfixed, her frightened gaze taking in the dusky room crowded with men. Near the far wall, there was a long bar where several cowboys stood drinking. There were several tables where others sat, cards and chips spread before them.

  But there was no activity now, no sound. Every man’s eyes were on her—she felt naked beneath the eager intensity of their gazes.

  Behind her, Zeke gave a great roar of laughter, and shoved her across the bare wooden floor.

  “I reckon you all like what you see!” He strode over to a corner table and perched on the edge of it. “Well, now, she’s available to any or all of you—for the right price, that is.”

  A hearty cheer went up in the smoke-filled room, followed by much laughter. As the other highwaymen joined Zeke at a round wooden table covered with scratches and sticky with spilled whisky, Zeke called to Gilly, the stout, sleazy-looking bartender, for drinks.

  Bryony leaned weakly against the knotted-pine wall in the corner, feeling like a caged animal.

  There were perhaps a dozen men present, some clad in bright, dandyish cowboy garb, others in dark, worn-looking clothing that appeared not to have been washed for weeks. Despite their varied dress, however, to Bryony they all seemed to have something in common—they were all desperate men.

  She could see it in their hard, swarthy faces, in the way their cruel eyes darted quickly, calculatingly about the dingy room. Like snakes in a dark pit, she thought.

  This secluded wooden building in the wilderness had to be a meeting place for outlaws, gamblers, and thieves. And here she was, trapped amongst them. A prisoner.

  Her heart pounded so thunderously she thought they must all be able to hear it, and she rammed her dirtied fist against her mouth to keep from screaming her despair. If only there was some way to escape...

  But it was hopeless. Tonight, these men intended to ruin her—and she knew nothing was going to stop them.

  Slumping wearily to the floor in the corner, she wondered if she’d be able to survive the degradation in store for her. At the thought of all of these hideous men touching her, brutally using her body to satisfy their animal lusts, something inside of her died. Sobs shook her as she huddled in the corner, even though she tried to choke them back, to keep as quiet as possible, hoping that the outlaws would forget about her.

  At the moment they were busy counting their loot.

  If only they would remain that way...

  “It sure was a nice haul,” Zeke remarked, fingering Mrs. Oliver’s diamond necklace with satisfaction. “All in all, boys, a good day’s work.”

  “Hey, what about this?” Ned snatched up Bryony’s reticule and dumped the contents onto the table. “Maybe the city girl’s got some cash in here.”

  The cameo brooch spilled out with a clatter, along with the money Bryony had brought with her, a silk handkerchief, and a small hand-mirror.

  “Whoopee, look at this!” Ned exclaimed, whistling in admiration as he held up the brooch for inspection. “This one’s a dandy! What do you suppose it’s worth, Zeke?”

  At his words, Bryony forgot her intention to remain quiet and unobtrusive. She rushed over and snatched the brooch from Ned’s hands before she realized what she was doing. When he turned incredulous eyes upon her, she recoiled, clutching the brooch desperately.

  “Please. Please let me keep the cameo.” She looked beseechingly at the grinning circle of bandits at the table. “Please let me go! If it’s money you want, I can get it for you. I have money. It’s in the bank—I can send for it! I promise, I’ll pay you anything you like if you’ll just let me go.”

  Deafening laughter greeted her words and her heart sank. Zeke Murdock looked like he might burst with amusement, and Ned was grinning from ear to ear.

  How did I become the victim of such monsters? she wondered wildly, her entire body beginning to tremble as she backed futilely away from them. They were heartless, totally without mercy. She spoke dazedly, in a whisper, the words quivering with fear.

  “You’re no better than animals. You’re wicked, inhuman, despicable—”

  Ned stalked toward her until her back was against the wall. A malicious grin spread across his face.

  “That’s enough out of you. Jest give me this purty little trinket, and maybe I’ll forget about your rude talk.”

  He tried to grab the brooch from her hands, but Bryony shrieked a protest, and before she could stop herself, she slapped him as hard as she could, a stinging blow to the cheek.

  As soon as she did it, she knew she’d made a terrible mistake, for she saw the fury light in his eyes and immediately he raised his hand and struck her across the cheek, knocking her back against the wall.

  Tears stung her eyes as pain exploded in her face. Gasping, she still held on as the pug-nosed outlaw tried again to wrench the brooch from her clenched hand—and he struck her once more, even harder than before.

  Bryony sank to her knees as the room swam above her and a horrible aching agony pierced her cheek. The cameo brooch rolled from her limp fingers. Ned grabbed it up, and then yanked her roughly to her feet, sneering down into her tear-filled eyes.

  “I guess that shut you up, didn’t it?” His gaze fell upon her pearl hairpins, and with a triumphant chortle, he began tearing them eagerly from her hair, ruthlessly pulling several long, black strands in his haste to collect the pins.

  “Hey, Zeke, look at these! This little lady is sure full of surprises!” he called gleefully, tossing the hairpins onto the table, while Bryony’s thick mane of long, dark hair cascaded about her shoulders. Ned turned back to her, grinning. “Now, lady, I’ve got a few surprises in store for you,” he chuckled.

  “Hell, why should Casper get her first?” one of the others protested to Zeke as Ned closed in upon Bryony, who had shrunk back against the wall. “That’s not fair. Why shouldn’t we have our chance?”

  “Yeah, and what about the rest of us?” A chorus of rough voices chimed in from around the smoky room. There was an angry buzz as the men argued amongst themselves.

  “I’m willing to pay a good price for the first round with her,” a tall, sly-looking cowboy announced from the bar.

  “So am I,” retorted another. “And I can better afford it.”

  Zeke pushed back his chair and stood up. “All right boys. Simmer down. He glanced briefly at Ned, who had stopped in his tracks. “Set yourself down, Ned, and try to control yourself. It appears we’re going to have a little bargaining session concerning this filly. You’ll have to put in your bid like everyone else and wait your turn.”

  “That ain’t fair,” Ned snarled. “You told me back on the mountain that when we got to Gilly’s—”

  “Shut up! You’ll get your turn with her, just like I said. Every man here will. But the hombre who gets her first, well, he’ll have to pay a steeper price. And it seems like plenty of these boys are willing to pay it. Especially since she happens to be such a beauty.” At that Zeke grabbed Bryony’s arm and jerked her forward. “Now what do you boys want to offer for this pretty little filly?”

  “How about a free sample of what’s in store?” the sly-looking cowboy suggested. “Let me have a kiss from those sweet red lips and I’ll tell you how much I’ll pay.”

  “No!” Bryony gasped. “Please no. Let me go, I beg of you!”

  At that moment, the door to the hideout swung open and a man entere
d, pausing in the doorway to survey the scene before him.

  All eyes swerved instinctively in his direction. He seemed to fill the narrow doorway as he lounged there, coolly studying the occupants of the room. He was tall—well over six feet—lean, and bronzed, with a dark sombrero worn low over his eyes, almost concealing his dark brown hair, and shadowing the cold, light blue of his eyes.

  A pale blue linen shirt, open at the throat, where a white silk neckerchief had been expertly tied, covered his brawny chest and fit snugly over wide, powerful shoulders. Dark blue trousers encased his muscular thighs, and gleaming black leather boots shone at his feet, which were planted apart in a relaxed but ready stance. But the thing one noticed first and foremost about the stranger was his gun belt. It was worn low over his hip, and contained a long-barreled Colt .45 Frontier.

  Somehow, the weapon seemed an integral part of the man in the doorway. One couldn’t imagine him without it.

  Upon the stranger’s entrance, the place grew strangely quiet. Bryony, staring at him out of wide, terrified eyes, felt a new fear descend upon her. As his cold blue gaze raked her, taking in her cloud of midnight-black hair, her parted lips and the fright in her eyes, she felt a sudden chill sweep over her.

  Something about this stranger made her go completely still as he advanced leisurely into the dimly-lit hideout, moving with a purposeful stride until he stood right before her and Zeke.

  “H... howdy, Texas.” Zeke spoke in a voice that made an effort to be casual, but for the first time since she’d met him, Bryony heard a note of nervousness in the outlaw leader’s tone.

  “Howdy, Murdock,” the stranger drawled. “Mind if I ask what’s going on?”

  Zeke shrugged. “Course not. This here is just a little city girl me and the boys fetched off the westbound stage. Quite a beauty, ain’t she? We’ve been havin’ a little fun, decidin’ who gets the first go at her.”

  The stranger’s gaze flicked from the burly outlaw leader to the girl locked in his grasp. No change of expression was perceptible in his ice blue eyes. He appeared relaxed, casual, totally at ease as he studied her. No one suspected that beneath his cool, nonchalant exterior, he was thinking hard and fast.