Chase the Wind (Apache Runaway Book 2)

by Madeline Baker

  Somehow, he would make a home for her. No matter what it took, no matter what sacrifices he had to make, he vowed to make her happy, to give her everything she desired, everything she deserved, so she would never regret her decision to go away with him.

  Beth. She was the beat of his heart, the air that he breathed. Beth.

  He turned back toward the ranch, the need to see her burning strong and bright within him. His mother had said everyone went to the dance. Perhaps Beth would be there. Even if he couldn’t talk to her, at least he could look at her, hear the sound of her voice, see her smile.

  The thought of seeing her quickened his pace until he was running. Toward Beth. Toward home.

  * * * * *

  The dance, which was held in the schoolhouse, was in full swing by the time Chase got there. The room had been cleared of desks; chairs had been pushed against the walls. Several long tables held a variety of pies and cakes, as well as a large punch bowl. Colored streamers and balloons hung from the ceiling. Standing in the open doorway, Chase scanned the room. He saw his mother waltz by with Ryder, caught sight of Dusty twirling a pretty young woman in a red dress around the floor. Dorinda stood off to the side, surrounded by a group of young men and women who all seemed to be talking at once, and then he saw Beth and everything else faded into the background. She was dancing with a tall man who held her far too tightly. It was all Chase could do to keep from crossing the floor and putting his fist in the other man’s face.

  When the music ended, the man took Beth by the hand and led her back to where her parents were sitting. Ralph Johnson looked stern in a dark-brown suit and tie. Theda Johnson looked like a pumpkin in an orange dress with a yellow sash. And Beth…she was a vision in a floor-length gown of dark-pink silk. Her hair, held back from her face with a pair of ivory combs, fell down her back in a mass of golden waves. She had never looked lovelier, or more out of reach.

  As if she felt his gaze, Beth slowly turned around. He saw the warmth of recognition in her eyes, the smile that curved her lips. A smile that was for him, and him alone.

  The man at her side spoke to her, and she turned away.

  “Chase! You came. I’m so glad.”

  He turned to see his mother and Ryder coming toward him. They were smiling and holding hands. His mother’s cheeks were flushed and her eyes sparkled with delight.

  “I’m going to get your mother some punch,” Ryder said. “Can I get you some?”

  “Thank you.”

  “There’s nice crowd here tonight,” Jenny said, “but then, there usually is.” She smiled up at him. “Will you dance the next dance with me?”

  Chase shook his head. “I do not know the white man’s dances.”

  “Your father couldn’t dance either, until I taught him.” Jenny smiled with the memory. Ryder hadn’t been keen on dancing, but he had admitted, later, that he was in favor of anything that put her in his arms. It had been fun, teaching him to waltz and to polka. She remembered how they had laughed as they whirled around the old cabin.

  Chase shook his head again. He didn’t want to make a fool of himself here, in front of a roomful of strangers. In front of Beth.

  “Who is that man?” he asked, pointing at the man hovering at Beth’s side.

  Jenny glanced over her shoulder. “Oh, that’s Ernest Toombs. He works at the bank.”

  “I do not like the way he looks at Beth.”

  Jenny placed her hand on her son’s arm. “Chase, please, don’t cause any trouble here. It will only infuriate Ralph, and embarrass Beth.”

  A muscle worked in Chase’s jaw as he watched the man called Ernest Toombs lead Beth out onto the dance floor again. Through narrowed eyes, he studied the man. He was of medium height and build, with slicked-back light-brown hair and pale-brown eyes. He held Beth with confidence, smiling at her often as he waltzed her around the floor.

  Chase wanted to kill him.

  Ryder returned a few minutes later, carrying three cups of punch. He handed one to Jenny, and one to Chase. “Cheers,” he said.

  Chase nodded, his gaze riveted on Beth.

  “Dusty and Rebecca look good together, don’t they?” Jenny remarked.

  Ryder nodded, but his attention was focused on Chase. He could sense the tension radiating from the younger man, feel the jealousy that pulsed with every beat of his heart, the hatred that flowed through his veins.

  “Chase.” Ryder shook his shoulder. “Chase.”

  Slowly, Chase met Ryder’s gaze.

  “It isn’t worth it,” Ryder said quietly.

  “He holds her too closely.”

  “It’s just a dance. It doesn’t mean anything.”

  “Doesn’t it? I see the way he looks at her.”

  “But she’s not looking at him,” Jenny said. “She’s watching you.”

  When the dance ended, Jenny walked over to say hello to Ivy Patterson, who was sitting near Beth’s mother. After a few moments, Jenny turned to say hello to Beth, who was, for the moment, alone.

  “How are you, Beth?” Jenny asked.

  “Fine, Missus Fallon. And you?”

  “Quite well, thank you.” Leaning closer, Jenny whispered, “Chase sends his love.”

  Beth’s smile was radiant. “Tell him hello for me. And tell him…never mind.”

  “Tell him what, Beth? You can tell me.”

  “Tell him I’ll meet him later, in the usual place.”

  “I’ll tell him.”

  “Mrs. Fallon?”

  “Yes, dear?”

  “Tell him I love him. Tell him I’d rather be dancing with him.”

  “I think he knows that, dear, but I’ll tell him.”

  Giving Beth a pat on the shoulder, Jenny went back to stand with Ryder and Chase. A few minutes later, Dusty and Rebecca joined them.

  “Hello, Mother. Father.”

  “Good evening, Mister and Missus Fallon.”

  Ryder nodded at his son. “Dusty. Rebecca. It’s nice to see you.”

  “Looks like Dorinda’s the belle of the ball,” Dusty remarked as he watched his sister waltz by. “She’s danced every dance.”

  “It’s good to have her home again,” Jenny said. “That’s a lovely dress, Rebecca. Is it new?”

  Rebecca looked over at Dusty and smiled. “Yes, it is.”

  “It’s a lovely shade of red.”

  “Thank you,” Rebecca said. “Who’s this?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, this is my son, Chase,” Jenny said. “Chase, this is Rebecca Winterburn. She’s one of our schoolteachers.”

  Rebecca offered her hand and Chase took it, aware, all the while, of his brother’s shuttered gaze.

  “Having a good time, Rebecca?” Jenny asked.

  “Yes, thank you. Dusty is a wonderful dancer.”

  “Takes after his old man,” Ryder said, grinning.

  Jenny laughed softly. “Come on, Twinkle Toes,” she said, grabbing Ryder by the hand, “they’re playing our song.”

  An awkward silence rose between Dusty and Chase. Chase watched his parents dance, wishing there was some way to breech the distance between himself and his brother.

  “Come on, Becky,” Dusty said, “let’s dance.”

  Chase cleared his throat. “Dusty, can I talk to you?”

  Dusty shook his head. He knew what his brother wanted to say, but he wasn’t ready to hear it yet.

  “Excuse me,” Rebecca said. “I think I’ll go say hello to Mrs. Patterson.”

  “I am sorry for the hurt I have caused you,” Chase said quietly. “I ask your forgiveness.”

  Dusty took a deep breath. Maybe it was time to get it over with, time to make amends with his brother, especially now, when the reason for their animosity no longer existed.

  He turned his back on Chase, needing a moment to gather his thoughts, and his gaze settled on Beth. She was standing near Rebecca and he studied the two women—both beautiful in their own way. Beth, blonde and fair, with dark-brown eyes and honey-hued skin; and Rebecca,
with her long dark hair and soft-gray eyes. One was a lark and one was a dove, albeit a dove clad in a bright-red dress, and he knew in his heart that it was Rebecca he loved, Rebecca he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

  He turned around, intending to tell his brother that he’d been wrong, that he was willing to make amends, but it was too late. Chase was gone.

  Dusty glanced around the dance floor. He saw his mother and father standing near the punch bowl, saw Rebecca talking to Melinda Patterson, saw Dorinda laughing at something Daisy Patterson had said.

  But there was no sign of Chase.

  Or Beth.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  They met behind the schoolhouse. Hand in hand, they ran into the shadows beyond the schoolhouse until they came to a small clearing within a grove of trees.

  “This is dangerous,” Chase said, glancing over his shoulder.

  “I don’t care. I couldn’t wait any longer.”

  Beth rose on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. She couldn’t be in the same room and not be with him, not talk to him. Not want him. Couldn’t stand another minute of listening to Ernest Toombs try to sweet-talk her.

  She had been sorely tempted to tell Mr. Ernest Leroy Toombs that he was wasting his time, that her father had practically promised her to Lester Harbaugh, but it had seemed easier to let him prattle on.

  Let people think she was sweet on Ernest. What did she care? In another month, she’d be gone and she would never have to see any of the people in Twin Rivers again.

  “I wanted to kill him,” Chase said, his lips moving in her hair.

  “Kill who?”

  “That gusano who was dancing with you.”

  “Ernest?” Beth laughed softly. “He’s nothing.”

  “He can hold you when I cannot. He can dance with you, talk to you. Smile at you.”

  “But you can hold me now,” Beth reminded him with a saucy grin. “And kiss me, if you’d just shut up.”

  “Vixen,” he murmured, and slanting his mouth over hers, he kissed her long and hard, leaving no doubt in her mind that she belonged to him and no one else.

  Her legs were trembling when he took his lips from hers.

  “Beth, I need you so.”

  “I know.” She unbuttoned his shirt and slipped her hands inside, letting her palms slide over the smooth expanse of skin beneath. “I love to touch you,” she whispered. “Touch me.”

  With a groan, he drew her down on the grass, his hands sliding down her back, skimming across her breasts. She came alive in his hands, arching her back, pressing herself against him, until he was blind with need.

  It was madness, being with her here, like this. In the distance, he could hear the faint strains of a fiddle, the high-pitched shriek of feminine laughter.

  And then everything else ceased to matter. All other sounds faded into the background and he heard only the harsh rasp of his own breathing, the seductive whisper of silk sliding over flesh as he slipped her dress over her shoulders.

  “You wear too many clothes,” he muttered as he divested her of her undergarments.

  “You don’t,” she said, a grin in her voice. He wore only a shirt and trousers and moccasins.

  At last they were together, fevered flesh against fevered flesh, two hearts beating as one, two souls merged into a perfect joining of mind and body…

  Heaven, Beth thought as the Earth righted itself once again. Being in Chase’s arms was like being in heaven.

  She wrapped her arms tight around him when he would have rolled away. “Not yet.”

  Bracing himself on his elbows, Chase smiled down at her. “I’ve too heavy for you.”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  With a sigh, he rested his forehead against hers, thinking he would like to stay as they were forever, with her arms around him and his body sheathed within her warmth. She shifted her hips beneath him, and he felt the faint stirrings of desire flutter through him once again.

  Chase lifted his head, his lips brushing hers. “We’d better go,” he said reluctantly, “before…”

  “Not yet.” She closed her eyes, drifting on a warm sea of contentment.

  “You slut!” Her father’s voice jerked Beth back to the present.

  “Father!” She glanced up at Chase, who was still lying over her, shielding her nakedness from view.

  “Get up, Injun.”

  Chase hesitated a moment, then stood up, his hands clenched at his sides.

  Jackknifing to a sitting position, she grabbed her dress and held it over her breasts. Fear snaked through her, making her mouth dry. Even so, a distant part of her mind couldn’t help but think how magnificent Chase looked standing there, his body bathed in moonlight, his expression defiant.

  “Get up, Elizabeth.”

  There was no room for argument in her father’s voice. Or in the two rifle barrels leveled at Chase.

  “You.” Loathing dripped from Ralph Johnson’s voice as he leveled an accusing finger at Chase. “Get away from her.”

  A muscle worked in Chase’s jaw. It was in his mind to refuse, but then he looked at the two rifleman. Both looked capable of killing him where he stood. If there was to be any shooting, he didn’t want to take a chance on Beth getting hurt.

  Jaw clenched, he took several steps to the left. Naked and unarmed, he felt as vulnerable as a newborn colt.

  “Mel, Lowell, get him out of here while my daughter gets dressed.”

  The man on the right jerked his rifle toward the deep woods behind them. “You heard what Mr. Johnson said, Injun, git goin’.”

  “If he doesn’t cooperate, shoot him,” Johnson said. “No one will object to my defending my daughter’s honor.”

  With a last look at Beth, Chase walked deeper into the forest that grew behind the schoolhouse.

  Beth clutched her dress to her breasts. “What are you going to do to him?”

  “He’s going to get just what he deserves. And you’re going to watch. Get your clothes on.”

  Panic rose up within her. She had never seen her father look so angry, so…uncivilized. “What are you going to do?”

  “Get dressed, Elizabeth.”

  She waited until he turned his back. Ignoring her undergarments, she pulled on her dress, her fingers shaking so badly she could hardly fasten the buttons.

  “Father…”

  He turned around, his eyes filled with contempt. “Let’s go.”

  She didn’t resist when he grabbed her by arm and forced her to follow him into the woods.

  A few minutes later, they stepped into a small clearing. Chase stood facing Mel and Lowell, his hands tied behind his back, his expression impassive. Blood oozed from a cut in his lower lip.

  “Get on with it,” her father said.

  Grim-faced, Mel and Lowell handed their rifles to her father. Then, with great deliberation, they each pulled on a pair of leather gloves.

  “No.” Beth shook her head. “Father, you can’t do this.”

  She watched in horror as the two men closed in on Chase, their fists driving into him with steady precision. Hands bound behind his back, Chase was helpless to defend himself.

  Feeling as though she were caught in the jaws of a nightmare, she watched Chase stumble back. Blood dripped from his nose and mouth. His breath was ragged and uneven and she wondered how he could endure such a horrible beating without crying out.

  “Father, make them stop!”

  “Shut up, Elizabeth.”

  She pressed her hands over her ears in an effort to block the horrible sound of fists striking flesh, but the sound echoed and reechoed in her mind. She wanted to close her eyes, to look away, but something compelled her to watch. If he could suffer such a brutal beating in silence, then it would be her punishment to watch it, to listen to the harsh rasp of his breathing, to watch the blood drip from his nose and mouth, to know he was suffering and it was all her fault.

  “Please, make them stop,” she begged. “Please, please, plea
se. This is all my fault.” She tugged on her father’s arm, desperate to make him listen. “I made Chase come out here with me. He didn’t want to.”

  She tugged on her father’s arm again. “Make them stop. Please make them stop!” She repeated the words in a helpless litany that fell on deaf ears.

  She groaned as Chase’s legs gave way and he fell to the ground, his body curling in on itself in an effort to avoid the punishing blows that went on and on. And on.

  She heard each individual blow, each grunt of pain that passed his lips.

  “That’s enough.”

  She sighed with relief as her father put an end to the brutal beating.

  Mel and Lowell stepped back, breathing hard.

  Elizabeth started forward, but her father grabbed her by the arm. “Stay here,” he commanded sharply.

  Ralph Johnson walked forward, until he was standing over Chase. “You know what they do to unruly stallions, don’t you, redskin?”

  Chase stared up at the man through a red haze of pain, his gut knotting with dread.

  “Give me your knife, Lowell,” Ralph said.

  “Father, no!”

  “Shut up, you slut.” Rage burned in Ralph Johnson’s eyes as he took Lowell’s knife.

  Chase glared up at Beth’s father through eyes nearly swollen shut. But it was not the man who held his attention now, it was the knife that drew his eye in morbid fascination. Moonlight glinted on the long, narrow blade.

  “They geld rogue stallions,” Ralph Johnson said. “That way, they can’t pass on their undesirable blood.” Ralph glanced at Mel and Lowell. “Hold him down.”

  Pain splintered through Chase as he struggled against the two men who held him down. He heard Beth scream, cringed as he felt the touch of hard, cold steel against his groin.

  “Father! No!” Beth stared at her father in horror as she realized what he meant to do. Revulsion rose up within her. “No.” She shook her head, unable to accept the horror of it. Chase would hate her now, and she couldn’t blame him.

  Chase closed his eyes, his whole body taut, his heart pounding in dreadful anticipation as he waited for the blade to cut away his manhood. He only hoped they would kill him after.

  “Drop that knife, Johnson, or you’re dead when you stand.”