Wilda's Outlaw

by Velda Brotherton

  Huge storm clouds blotted out the moon, and the land grew as dark as his mood. From the minute he’d fallen on her in the creek, she’d put a spell on him. Put laughter and joy back in his heart. Tricked him into wanting her body more than anything else. But he was over it now and forever. He’d put her behind him with all the other memories he no longer wanted.

  At his command the valiant bay raced on into the darkness, the sound of his breathing loud, labored. Finally he slowed him to a walk. No sense killing poor Gabe over this human weakness.

  He shut his mind and heart to her, drove her away with visions of his murdered brothers, his father lying in his own blood within sight of the house, his mother, dead of the pox. All victims of that Yankee war that would not end for him, no matter what he did.

  And he was tired of messing around. Baron was right. They had to do something big, something to avenge all those who had been slaughtered in the name of those damn Yankee do-gooders. Making up reasons for killing southerners. The James brothers, the Youngers, Quantrill and Baron, all had the right idea. War doesn’t give one whit for its victims. It kills men, women and children, treats them all alike. And this was war. Just because Lee had surrendered ten years ago meant nothing. He would fight on. Hit those rich Limey bastards where it would hurt them the most. Their banks.

  He would not go back to the Johnson place to see the red haired foreign woman. He would forget the spell she had cast upon him. Never say her name, not even think it. Reining Gabe to a halt, he watched the storm clouds lit by distant lightning, thought of his family and all he had lost, then turned the bay toward the only home he had. The outlaw shack along the banks of the Smoky River.

  ****

  Wilda’s backside ached from the long ride with her hands bound together over the saddle horn. She no longer wondered where Baron was taking her, but only wished they would arrive so she could get down off this dreadful beast.

  Up ahead, a man stepped from the shadows, shouted. “Halt or taste lead.”

  Her mount spooked, danced, ropes cut into her wrists as she struggled to keep from slipping off. She bit her lip and refused to cry out. Baron reined up, calmed both horses.

  “Gawdamn, Deke, I like to had me a fit when you come out like that. Don’t you ever say nothing?”

  “Didn’t know who you was.”

  “You seen Calder?”

  “Nope.”

  “Wonder where the hell he went. What’s keeping him?”

  “He ain’t gonna like this. You bringing her.”

  “Too bad. I’m through caring what he likes. She can help us with the bank, and that’s what she’s gonna do if I have to hogtie him along with her.”

  The relief that surged through her left her helpless. He was not going to kill her, at least not until he found out she’d lied about the bank.

  “I don’t like it neither, you’re bringing her. Specially like this.” Deke gestured to her.

  “Too bad again. I didn’t hear no one ask. I’m through messing around. He wants to go along, fine, otherwise….”

  “I’ve seen him mad and I’d just as soon not be around.”

  “It’s my mad you need to worry about, not his. Why don’t you just ride out, you yellow livered spook? Never did like you skulking around no-ways. Hovering about in the dark, never saying nothing, just watching and breathing. What do I need you for, anyways?”

  “Nothing, I don’t reckon,” the man in the shadows replied.

  A long silence followed.

  “Deke? You there?”

  No reply except the muffled thud of a horse moving out of hearing behind them.

  “Well, damnation, if he didn’t mean it,” Baron muttered, and kicked his horse into motion. “Always did carry his brains in his saddle bags along with all else he owned.”

  Halting under the trees, he dismounted in drifting pools of moonlight and came back. She tensed. His hands fiddled with the ropes at her wrists, pulled them free. Blood rushed painful prickles into her hands and she rubbed them briskly.

  “Get on down here, woman.” He grabbed her arm, yanked her to the ground onto her bottom. “Get up.” He dragged her toward the shack before she could gain her feet.

  Rocks cut at her bottom. “Stop it, you cretin.” Her shouting didn’t faze Baron.

  This was definitely worse than the dilemma presented by her betrothal to Lord Prescott. At least he never threatened to strike her or kill anyone because of her. Sometimes it was a mistake to believe that things could not get worse. It would appear that mostly they could.

  That she could think such thoughts while being dragged along the ground by a madman amazed her. But it kept her from having to think about what might happen to her when Baron found out she could not help with his plan to rob the Victoria City Bank.

  “Please stop,” she cried when he yanked her onto the rickety steps. “Let me walk. You’re hurting me.”

  “What do I care?” he shouted, but threw her arm down like it was on fire. “Get up, then.” He kicked her for good measure, then tromped up the steps to stare down at her.

  The thrust of his boot toe sent a sharp pain through her hip. Rising to her elbows, she glanced upward. Gazed at the shadow of his form, arms akimbo like he might be ready to go at her again. She struggled to stand, finally gained her feet.

  “I told you I would help you rob the bank. Why are you treating me so?”

  “Why are you treating me so?” he mimicked in a fair impression of her accent.

  It occurred to her that he must have gone insane since she’d last seen him. Though he had been gruff, his manner now appeared completely erratic. As if out of sight of Calder, he became someone else. She would have to deal with him somehow, if she were to live through this.

  “Come on, woman. Git yourself inside. What’s a matter—you don’t give Calder what he wants? That why he ain’t come back to get this job done? Out there riding through the night trying to get rid of his boner?”

  Replying to what she presumed must be yet another obscene reference would be pointless, so she staggered ahead of him into the filthy shack, nerves quivering with foreboding. Where was Calder? Surely he would arrive soon and put a stop to this.

  Baron scratched a match to life and lit a lamp. The acrid smell of sulfur and coal oil tickled her nostrils. A flickering glow outlined the sparse furnishings. Afraid to move, she remained in the center of the room, swaying with fatigue. He kicked a chair out and straddled the seat, chin resting on arms folded over the back, feral eyes gleaming like a wild animal’s.

  “Git on over here and set yourself down. We’ve got work to do.”

  Quaking with fear, she obeyed. The pain in her hip flared and she cried out, limped to him, dragged out the other chair and fell into it. “Aren’t we going to wait for Calder?”

  “Aren’t we going to wait for Calder?”

  Though his mockery sent fresh chills of terror through her, she fixed him with a harsh glare. “You know, as long as you insist on mocking me, I cannot tell you what you want to know.” She prayed he couldn’t hear her teeth chattering together, nor the thumping of her heart.

  “Oh, is that right? Miss Priss, Miss Puss, kitty, kitty.”

  Squeezing her eyes tightly, clamping her lips together, she refused to react. Prayed for Calder’s return. Surely he would come soon. But even if he did, would he be able to control this savage man?

  Though any outburst could well feed Baron’s fury, raising it to a higher level, she lashed out. “Stay away from me, you brute. I won’t help you, I won’t.”

  His chair scooted, the floor creaked, and she snapped her eyes open. Worse not to see. She stared into the slobbering snarl of wet lips, gagged on the stench of his fetid breath. Fear roiled in her stomach, fueled a panic that propelled her from the chair. Fingers clawed, digging into his filthy cheeks. Could that be her screaming? That maniacal, high-pitched screech?

  He roared, twisted at her arm and slung her across the room with such force that she slammed i
nto the wall. Wind knocked out of her, gasping for air, she slid to the floor. He was on top of her before she could come to her senses, yelling obscenities, spit spraying her face.

  “You bitch, what’s wrong with you? Stop it, stop it now.”

  But she couldn’t stop. Sucking air into aching lungs, she screamed again.

  He shook her…hard. A loud crack when her head struck something solid. Blackness. Though she could not move, she heard the noise of his breath sawing in and out, felt the jagged pain in her lungs. Something had happened to make him stop. After a moment she could breathe again, see, feel, hear.

  He leaned close to her, his rancid smell causing her stomach to heave. She scrabbled into the corner and hunkered there like a whipped puppy.

  Voice husky, cast low as if someone else might hear, he leaned over her. “I’ll kill Calder…and them, too, the woman and her whelps, if you tell I done this. If you don’t help with the bank. I’ll kill him and them, bitch. And you know it.”

  Then he was gone. Someone was outside. The sound of hoof beats broke through the ringing in her ears, stilled the terror that wrenched at her insides. It could only be one person. That man, Deke, had left. Only one other knew where this place was. Calder Raines. Joy overcame the pain but only temporarily. She couldn’t move, could only lie there and wait.

  With all the energy she could muster, she formed his name, tongue dry and scraping over her lips. It came out a croak, and she tried again. Must warn him…tell him Baron had gone insane. Would kill him.

  No, that wasn’t right. He would kill him if she told. She had to be careful. Careful. Every muscle in her body was on fire, her head throbbed madly. But she was alive.

  No matter how hard she tried, her lips and tongue and throat would not put a voice to the name she shouted in her mind.

  Calder, Calder, Calder. Only husks of sound fell from her mouth, a name echoing, echoing, echoing. And then the pain slipped away into darkness.

  ****

  Calder dismounted outside the hideout, greeted Baron when he stepped onto the porch.

  “’Bout time you showed up.”

  “Sorry, I’ve been…uh, busy.”

  “Yeah, saw you were.”

  Calder stopped, caught something in the tone that disturbed him. “What? Where’s Deke?” He leaned sideways to peer through the shadows, but could not make out Baron’s face.

  “You ought to come inside here. Something bad’s happened to that woman…you know, that gal you brought out here?”

  Calder shoved past Baron and into the shack. “What’s she doing here?” He’d left her safe…safe at Rachel’s. How had she come to be here?

  Baron followed. “Beats me. I think someone’s hurt her. Reckon it coulda been Deke, since he ain’t here. I brung her in, but I didn’t know what to do fer her.”

  She lay curled in the corner, dress hiked up around her thighs, head on a bedroll. Locks of red hair tumbled over her face. A moan arose from somewhere around his heart, and he dropped to his knees, pushed back the curls with fingers that trembled. Her eyelids flickered and she tried to speak.

  His mother once taught him how to pray, but he could no longer remember. “Shh, don’t talk,” he whispered past the pain in his soul. “Baron, bring that lamp over here. Quick.”

  He was afraid to touch her, to move her, and leaned close instead, placed his lips gently to her temple. She barely responded. “It’s okay, I’m here.”

  Lamplight flickered shadows over her face, but there were no marks there. Gently, he ran his hands along each arm. Nothing broken, though she gasped when he touched her.

  “Calder.” The name dribbled from her lips, and she sobbed brokenly.

  “Hush, don’t cry. What happened? No, don’t try to talk. Just lie still. I’ll take care of you. Baron, bring some water. A drink and a pan and a rag. Hurry, dammit.”

  Baron dipped water from a bucket into the wash pan and tin cup. “Hell, is she gonna be all right? I found her…found her like this when I got here. Guess she come looking for you. Someone must’ve followed her.” He offered the cup of water. “She couldn’t talk. Reckon ole Deke coulda done this to her?”

  Without a reply, Calder lifted her head and placed the cup to her lips. She gulped and swallowed, gulped some more. A dreadful guilt choked him. He should never have left her alone. She had threatened to follow him, but it made no sense that she’d turned up here. And who had done this to her? He couldn’t buy Deke doing something so vicious. Maybe that bastard she’d run away from somehow found her? But how?

  “Was there a horse? How’d she get here? Where the hell is Deke?” He took the cup away and spoke again to her, though Baron had not replied to his questions. “That’s enough for now.”

  “Well?” he shouted at Baron.

  She jerked, whimpered, and he soothed her with a gentle touch.

  Baron shrugged, backed off a step. “No horse. Maybe Deke… Don’t know. He’s gone. Can’t find him nowhere.”

  “Dammit to hell, Deke wouldn’t a done this. You didn’t see anyone? Riding off?”

  Anger grew in the core of him. Anger at himself, at whoever had hurt her, at every damn thing he could think of. But he had to control the rage, keep it in check while he cared for her. Though all he wanted to do was find the bastard and hang him up in the nearest tree, it would have to wait.

  He dipped the rag in water, wrung it out and bathed her face, murmuring soothing words. She watched him, blue eyes shimmering in tears, a look he so dreaded. Her innocent confusion tore at his heart.

  “Do you hurt anywhere else?” he finally asked.

  She licked her lips and stared over his shoulder, then back at him. “My leg. And head.” She cleared her throat, tried again, voice coming more clear. “No, it wasn’t him. He didn’t hurt me.” She darted a quick gaze over his shoulder. “Scared me.” She hiccuped like a child holding in sobs.

  Sorrow pinched his heart. Who was she talking about? “Who did this?”

  The floor creaked as Baron stepped closer, peered down at her as well. Calder glanced at him, then back toward Wilda.

  “I-I don’t know. I could not see his face…it w-was covered.”

  “That’s enough, don’t talk anymore. Baron, let’s see if we can’t make her more comfortable. I’m sorry we don’t have a regular bed, but we’ll fix you one, honey,” he whispered.

  Her hand grabbed out, captured his and squeezed.

  Baron knelt on the other side of her, and she glanced quickly in his direction, then back at Calder.

  “I’ll lift her and you roll that out so she can lay on it.”

  Baron nodded, and Calder slipped his arms under her knees and shoulders, moving her as carefully as he could. She cried out softly, and curled her arms around his neck.

  “Sorry, honey, sorry. Okay?”

  No reply, but her breath flared hot against his chest.

  He lay her gently on the bedroll Baron had spread on the floor and straightened her skirts to cover her legs. They fashioned her a pillow from a blanket, and because the night was warm and the inside of the shack stuffy, left her uncovered.

  Calder turned to Baron. “Now, tell me what the hell happened.”

  ****

  Wilda awoke before dawn. Outside tree leaves whispered in the wind, and from far off came the lonesome call of the animal Calder called a coyote. Told her the Indian’s named them Song Dog. What a forlorn sound they made. Such unfamiliar night melodies.

  Why was she laying on the floor? Rachel had said she could sleep with her, but she did not remember going to bed. She remembered Calder holding her in his arms, kissing her, riding away. The sound of her heart breaking.

  Odd how strangely unencumbered she felt without the trappings of her former life. The dress Rachel had loaned her was a simple affair with no layers of fabric, no lace or bunchings of material. But something else was different. Though her body ached, there wasn’t the constriction… She touched her ribcage, ran her fingers along her waist. Her cor
set. It was gone.

  In her misery she tried to turn over. Pain shot through her head, her arms and legs ached and a sore spot on one hip burned. The memory of Baron’s brutality came back full blown as a nightmare. Had he removed the corset after she hit her head? And for what reason? He’d promised to kill Calder and Rachel and the kids if she did not do as he asked. What might he do to her? She cupped her breasts in both hands and moaned. Worse, what else had he already done?

  She had little choice but to do as he asked. Though once it was over, he would kill her, she could not be the cause of harm coming to Rachel and the children. Perhaps Calder could stop him, perhaps he could not. Worse, perhaps he would not. She did not know him, not really. So how could she possibly love him? Maybe the feelings she had experienced were something other than love. After all, she had never loved a man before, save for her father. The sisters could be right about the evil desire men could awaken in innocent women. A wicked feeling put there by the devil himself.

  Muffling another moan, she shifted, tried to find a small amount of comfort. The fabric of the dress caressed her bare breasts, an erotic reminder of Calder’s earlier embrace. A shudder passed through her. Baron might have had his way with her, though surely she would feel something. The sisters cautioned of the pain of losing ones virginity, the bleeding. There was none of that. Besides, Calder would never have allowed such a thing, would he? Or had she only dreamed he was here?

  Once again she cupped her palms over her tender nipples, shivered. As much from thinking of Calder’s embrace as from the fear of what Baron might have done. Never had she felt this way, so naughty, so enticed by memories. Wearily, she closed her eyes, only to dream of Calder. His gentle touch, his full mouth on hers, the feel of him pressed against her.