The Bride Series (Omnibus Edition)
Page 67
Lacy put a hand on her arm. “Matthew is with them now, Rachael. You just remember that. And maybe if Brand gets away, he’ll find a way to rescue Luke. Maybe he can even prove it’s Jason who’s behind all this.”
Rachael studied the woman, hope in her eyes. “You think so, too?”
“Of course I do. It was the first thing I thought of when I heard about the raids at the dance and heard Brand was being blamed.”
“I thought of it, too. But I can’t believe even Jason would have allowed a raid on the Double ‘R.’ He’s always been so protective of my brothers.”
“For a reason, Rachael. He wanted to impress you. But maybe he thought that without your brothers around, you’d be a little more dependent on him. Who knows how a man like that thinks? I think he’s every bit as bad as Brand Selby says he is. He proved that this morning.”
Rachael closed her eyes and breathed deeply for control. “I have to go right away, Lacy. I’ll pack a carpetbag with a few necessities while you saddle a horse for me. Would you?”
“If you are determined to go, then I’ll saddle the horse—only because I want to help you get out of town fast, before Jason musters up his own men.” The woman blinked back tears and left, and Rachael hurriedly packed a bag, pulling open drawers and throwing in some underwear, a couple of blouses, and two skirts. Her riding boots would have to do for a while. She noticed the carved wolf when she started to close a drawer, and she picked it up, her eyes tearing again as she studied it.
“Brand,” she whispered. She could not imagine a life without him now. She forced back the tears and put the wolf back in her drawer, realizing that after tonight the wolf might be all she had left of Brand Selby. She wanted nothing more than to fling herself on a bed and cry and cry until there were no more tears left. But the tears would have to come later. She grabbed two spare blankets that lay folded on a footstool at the end of the bed and tucked them under her arm. She would tie them to her gear.
She hurried down to the kitchen, glad that neither Bert Peters nor Stewart Glass had come back to the house yet. She set down the blankets and carpetbag and took a small flour sack from under Lacy’s cupboard where she knew they were kept. She stuffed it with a few potatoes, a loaf of bread, and a small jar of homemade jam. She had to be prepared in case she was able to ride out with Brand. She hurried outside then to the horse shed, where Lacy had a lantern lit so she could see to saddle a horse.
Rachael left her things there and took a canteen from a hook in the shed, hurrying to the well to fill it. She looked around at the shadows beyond the dim light of the house windows, feeling a shiver at the thought that someone could be watching. But she was sure she had acted quickly enough that she could get away before anyone knew. Surely Jason wouldn’t think her capable of riding out into the night alone. But she had some experience at these things now. She had gone for all those rides with Brand, had walked out all alone to meet him, had ridden with him during the night right through hostile country. She felt proud of herself for what she was doing now.
She carried the canteen back to the shed, and Lacy had the horse saddled and ready. “I only have the two horses,” Lacy said, “and neither one is much good for anything but pulling a light buggy at a slow pace. But Gray Legs here, she’ll get you where you want to go, and she doesn’t spook easy.”
Rachael petted the horse, a black mare with gray legs. “You’ll do just fine, Gray Legs,” she soothed the horse. She turned to Lacy. “I don’t know if I’ll see you again, Lacy. I don’t know what will happen.”
Lacy’s eyes teared. “I know, honey. I’ll be…praying for you.” The woman’s voice broke and the two of them hugged tightly for a few seconds. Rachael forced herself to let go and she climbed up into the saddle.
“Thank you, Lacy—for everything. I’ll find a way to come back someday and let you know we’re all right—or I’ll get a letter to you.” She swallowed back a painful lump in her throat.
Their eyes held a moment longer. Then Rachael turned the horse and rode out into the night.
The night air was quiet, crisp, and cold. Once Rachael’s eyes adjusted, she was surprised at how well she could see in the bright moonlight. She headed Gray Legs through the now familiar woods, telling herself not to be afraid of the dark shadows and night creatures. Brand had taught her not to be afraid. She had to be brave and strong now, for his sake.
She saw no sign of a gang of men headed out of town yet. It would take awhile for men to get changed and head out, and she was sure she had gotten a good head start on Jason and his men. Even from Lacy’s house she could at first hear the continued shouting, and she shivered at the realization that all those men would be going after Brand.
At least now that she was beyond the first hill that hid the town from outlying areas, she no longer heard any sounds at all, other than night insects. After living in Missouri for three years, the total silence in western lands amazed her. She had forgotten how utterly lonely and quiet this land could be. And never had she felt this lonely. Her precious big brother hated her. Another brother and both her parents were dead. And Luke might be dead, too. All she had was Brand, and if she didn’t get to him in time, he also might be dead by morning. She would have nothing then. Nothing.
She slowly made her way through the trees, praying Gray Legs would not stumble over some fallen branch or log that she could not see. They broke into open country, and Rachael headed for the familiar rock where she used to meet Brand. How well she knew the way now, even by moonlight. She was sure she could find her way all the way to Brand’s cabin. She moved Gray Legs into a faster trot, her heart growing lighter at having gotten away before Jason knew about it. Soon she would be with Brand. Brand would know what to do. He would never let anything happen to her.
She rode for several more yards before she heard the faint sound of a galloping horse. Her chest tightened, and fear shimmied down her spine. Who would be out here riding hard and alone this time of night? Brand? Did he already know? She slowed her horse and listened, then turned when she realized a horse was galloping up from behind her. Instinct told her it was not Brand Selby. Joshua? Joshua was too wounded to ride that hard.
She was left with no choice but to try to outrun whoever was following her, to get to Brand before the stranger got to her. Maybe it was a Comanchero! Or maybe it was old Rotten Mouth, the Comanche who had tried to buy her once! She kicked Gray Legs into motion, and she knew already that Lacy was right. The horse was capable of no more than a loping gallop that any healthier, younger horse could meet and exceed. She rode the mare as hard as the animal could muster, but she could hear and feel the rider behind her getting closer and closer.
“Brand! Brand!” she whimpered. Someone rode right up beside her. She screamed as a strong arm came around her and jerked her from her horse. She began fighting wildly while the man slowed his horse, then threw her to the ground.
At first Rachael could do nothing. She lost her breath completely when her back hit the ground hard, and she opened her mouth, trying desperately to scream. A man came to stand over her, straddling her and looking down at her.
“Well, well. If it ain’t the pretty white whore who likes to sleep with big bucks. You maybe thinking of riding out to your lover and warning him he’s gonna be hanged tonight?”
Rachael recognized Jules Webber’s voice. She continued to gasp for breath as she tried to wiggle out from under him, but he sat down on top of her, taking a bandanna from around his neck.
“I expect I’d better take advantage of you not being able to scream, bitch. Sounds carry mighty far on the plains at night.”
He quickly tied the smelly bandanna tight around her mouth, shoving her over on her stomach to make a tight knot behind her head. Rachael tried to get up, but he shoved her face into the dirt and put a knee in her back, pulling her arms behind her. He pulled a piece of rawhide from his pocket and began tying her wrists so tightly that she wondered if she would lose her hands from lack of blood.
He laughed, yanking her to her feet and holding her around the chest with one hand, making sure to use his hand over her breast to support her. He whistled for his horse and reached out to grab its reins when it trotted up to him. Rachael regained most of her breath, and she began struggling, kicking at him wildly and trying to get loose from the gag so that she could scream, even though it was not likely anyone was about to hear her. But there was always the possibility Brand was out there somewhere.
Jules jerked her around and backhanded her so that she whirled around and hit the ground hard, for she was unable to put out her hands to help stop the fall. She felt tiny bits of gravel bite into the side of her face, then felt herself jerked up again.
“Don’t be trying to fight it, slut! Besides, there ain’t a man in Austin who would come to your aid right now. There was a time when Jason Brown might have defended you, but he’s the one who sent me out here. Jason figured you’d try to ride out and warn the breed. But Jason, he’s got other plans for you, little missy. Ever been to Mexico? Hmm?”
He laughed again, and Rachael tasted vomit in her throat. Jules half dragged her to his horse, then threw her over the saddle.
“Now where’s that damned horse of yours?” he muttered. “Goddamn old mare took off on me.”
Rachael was glad for the tiny bit of hope. Maybe Gray Legs would go back home. Lacy would find the horse and know Rachael never reached Brand.
Jules mounted, and his knee hit her in the face. She struggled not to think about what might lay ahead for her, and she tried not to think about the filthy bandanna in her mouth and the ugly words and touches of Jules Webber. She wondered if anything more terrible than this night could happen to anyone; poor Matthew dead, Joshua wounded and hating her, Luke gone, Brand might be hanged. No! She must not think of those things. Brand had said God meant for them to be together. She had to believe she and Brand would somehow survive this.
Brand stirred awake, realizing the lantern he had hung in the stall had gone out and that he had fallen asleep. The sick horse he had been watching over whinnied and stirred slightly, but still lay on its side. Brand started to relight the lantern when his keen ears heard the distant approach of horses. He realized then that it was not the lamp going out that had subconsciously alerted him. Danger approached.
He moved in darkness to the stall entrance where his rifle sat propped. His handgun was in the house, but he wore his hunting knife, and he kept spare ammunition in the barn. He moved to the barn door, peeking out and listening. Several horses were coming, but they seemed to be riding quietly. He realized that whoever was coming this time of night would expect him to be inside the cabin, not out in the barn.
For the moment, he was glad for a sick horse. Being in the barn instead of the house could be to his advantage. He moved through the darkness to his own horse, setting the rifle aside and feeling for the small, stuffed buffalo hide saddle he used. He took a blanket that hung over the wall dividing the stalls and threw it over Shadow, then quickly put on the saddle, tying it underneath the horse. Long years of doing this day after day left him little need for light. He threw another blanket over the top of the saddle, then took the bridle from where he always hung it and slipped the bit into Shadow’s mouth.
“You’ve got to be real quiet, boy,” he told the gelding. He petted its nose and finished slipping on the bridle. He had no supplies, but he suspected that would be the least of his worries tonight. He had survived the Indian way too much of his life to be concerned over such things. He turned Shadow, leading him out of the stall, picking up his rifle again and walking over to the barn door that faced the cabin.
He could hear the horses clearly now, and saw torches. His chest tightened at the realization that they were white men, some of them looking like average settlers and townspeople. Surely they were from Austin.
Rachael! Had something gone wrong? Why were these men here? They quickly and quietly surrounded the cabin.
“Come on out, Selby,” someone shouted. Brand recognized Jason Brown’s voice, and a chill swept through him. He knew! Surely he knew! What had happened to Rachael?
“Come out now, or we’ll burn you out, you half-breed scum,” Jason yelled. “We know you’re behind the raids, and we know about you and Rachael Rivers! Come out of there, you filthy rapist!”
Brand stood stock-still, knowing he should ride out but wanting to hear all he could. He had to know what had happened to Rachael.
“Maybe he ain’t in there, Jason,” one of the other men said.
“This time of night? He’s in there. Indians don’t like the dark. Think the night spirits are going to get them.”
They all laughed, and Jason raised his rifle, firing a shot through a window of the cabin. “Come out of there, breed!” he growled. “You’re going to hang tonight, Selby! Hang—for giving information to the Comanche so they could raid settlers! Why’d you let them raid Joshua’s place, Selby, huh? Just because you were disappointed that Joshua Rivers didn’t want you marrying his sister? Well, you sure as hell won’t be marrying her, because we’re going to stretch your thieving, traitorous neck tonight!”
Shouts went up from the men who surrounded the cabin solidly so that no one inside could possibly get out without being seen.
“Let’s burn him out of there!” someone shouted.
Jason nodded. “Go ahead. But not everybody. We need the torches for light. I don’t want that snake slithering out under our feet.”
A few of the men let out war whoops, throwing torches onto the roof of the cabin, a couple more throwing torches through the windows.
“Keep a good watch now, boys,” Jason warned them. “He’s a clever bastard. When he comes out, just shoot to wound him. I want to see him hanging high in Austin tomorrow morning.”
Guns were pulled and men shouted, their horses prancing about restlessly as flames began to show at the windows and on the roof of the cabin. The crackling sound penetrated Brand’s heart. He knew that he was going to lose everything he had worked and saved so hard to have.
“Soon as we have the breed, shoot down all his horses,” Jason ordered. “Then we’ll burn everything else.”
Brand moved away from the barn door, hurrying to the stall where the sick horse lay. He bent close, petting its nose. “I’m sorry, boy.” Tears stung his eyes. He knew this horse he had been trying to save would be shot tonight. There was nothing he could do to save anything, and he had to think of Rachael. Something had happened he didn’t know about. If there had been raiding, he had a strong suspicion it was not Comanche men doing it, not if they had raided Joshua’s place. This had something to do with Jason Brown, and if he could get away, this might be his chance to prove a connection between Jason Brown and Comancheros.
The first thing he had to do was find out if Rachael was all right. If Jason Brown knew about Rachael and him, God only knew what the man would do. The shouts outside grew louder.
“Where the hell is he?”
“No man can keep from running out of a burning house.”
“Maybe he ain’t even in there!”
“Yeah. Maybe he rode into town to sleep with Rachael Rivers.”
Brand tried to put things together in his mind. Jason had just gotten back from a tour of his territory. If i
t was Comancheros doing the raiding, maybe Jason had brought them back with him for that very purpose. But why? And why would he risk bringing them so close to Austin?
He had to find out about Rachael and then find the Comancheros. He had a good idea where Comancheros would hide if they wanted to be relatively close to Austin, but he couldn’t find them or help Rachael if he got himself hanged. The first thing he had to do was save himself from Jason Brown and the men with him outside.
He moved away from the sick horse and led Shadow to the rear door of the barn. He reached for a leather strap that hung on the wall, which bore loops on it through which he could shove his rifle while he was riding, and to which he could tie supplies. He quickly strapped the belt around Shadow in front of the saddle, then eased the rifle into the loops. He took a parfleche down from the wall that held more bullets for the rifle, tying the rawhide straps of the parfleche through another loop. Then he took down a belt that held more bullets and slung it over his shoulder. He opened the barn door quietly, then eased up onto Shadow.
He petted the horse’s neck, whispering in its ear. “You’ll have to run hard, boy, like the good Indian mount you are. Running Wolf needs you to be swift tonight.”
He headed out, quietly at first, then breaking into a hard gallop northward.
“Hey!” he heard someone shout. “Somebody’s riding out!”
“Goddamn sonuvabitch!” someone cursed.
“Get after him!”
Brand heard more shouting and war whoops. He kicked Shadow’s flanks with moccasined feet, tearing into the darkness. The surefooted animal charged over rock and buffalo grass, feeling its master’s tenseness, sensing that the life of the man who rode him depended on his swiftness. Mane and tail flew outward as Shadow put his heart into the ride, his eyes wide, the whites of them showing in the moonlight.