by Paty Jager
Zeke ripped her arm from Cutter’s grasp and landed a firm blow to the man’s belly. She backed away as the man doubled over. Before she could get her hands on a gun, three men jumped on Zeke while the others drew their weapons. Zeke stopped struggling. He glared at Cutter as the men held him.
Cutter straightened, his face pinched in pain. He glared at Zeke. “You’d be dead if I didn’t want this woman to cooperate.” The outlaw snaked an arm around her waist, dragging her to the middle, larger shack. He turned, glaring at Zeke and tightening his hold on her. “You behave yourself, and she won’t be harmed.”
Maeve’s stomach clenched as three men struggled to push a raging Zeke through the door of a shack on the far side. Her heart ached when he took a nasty hit. He would be submitted to far worse treatment than she. All because of his devotion to her. She ground her teeth with determination. She’d find a way to get to him and get out of this valley.
****
Zeke seethed. Jacks and Jezebels. He was trussed up like a hog on a spit, and Maeve was in a shack with a man who had no scruples. He rocked the chair. If he couldn’t loosen the ropes, he might be able to break the chair, and then get loose.
He tipped. The chair rested on two legs for what seemed an eternity and crashed to the floor. Oomph. Air whooshed out of him. The brim of his hat saved his head from ramming into the floor. Gulping air, he wiggled hands, feet, then arms and legs. Nothing. The rope still cut into him. His effort got him nowhere, except stuck on his side on the dirt floor.
What was Cutter doing with Maeve? The torment of all the images in his head made his eyebrow twitch and his head pound. He had to get free. Had to get them out of here.
Scanning the shack, a shiny object caught his attention. A knife rested on a piece of wood by the stove. If he scooted over, he’d be able to grasp the weapon in his hands behind his back. Flexing his body and pushing with a foot against the hard, packed dirt, he maneuvered slowly across the floor. He stopped when the sound of footsteps approached. He was vulnerable on his side all trussed up.
Holding his breath and listening, he waited. The footfalls stopped outside the door then faded away. Huffing and straining, he began to slither across the floor once more. He bumped the wood with his foot and scooted down, feeling with his hands for the knife. The wooden hilt touched the tips of his fingers. Pushing closer, the handle pushed against his back. He clutched the knife and started to saw at the rope about his arms.
Voices murmured outside the door.
****
Maeve rubbed her hands up and down her arms. Once Cutter closed the door behind him, fear crept up her spine like a cold winter wind. That fear doubled when she thought of the three men practically carrying Zeke away. Would they hurt him? This whole trip was for her. To learn about her father. However, the more she dug, she feared she jeopardized not only her life but Zeke’s.
“Sit down. And I’ll tell you about Irish.” Cutter pulled out a chair at the small table in the middle of the room.
She frowned and took the offered seat. “Who was Irish?”
“Your father. He rode with the gang about four months before he shot Samuel.”
No. Her father wasn’t an outlaw. The man she remembered held high esteem for the law. He wouldn’t steal and kill. “I don’t believe you.”
Cutter snickered. “Well, you better, cuz, I know. I’d only been with the gang about a year when your father helped us out of a tight spot. We’d robbed a bank and were holed up shootin’ it out with the town. Not sure how Irish pulled it off, but he got us out the back and away from that town before the marshal knew we was gone.” The respect in the man’s voice repulsed her.
“We gave him a cut and offered him to stay with us. Samuel was the oldest until your pa joined. Wasn’t long before Irish had a fair amount of the men hanging on his words and ignoring Samuel.”
“Pa killed him in self-defense then.” She couldn’t help but feel a little bit vindicated.
“Naw. Your pa just flat out shot Samuel.” Cutter ran a hand over his whiskered face. “Damnedest thing. We was all in town playing poker and rousting the women.” Cutter ran his gaze over her chest and licked his lips.
She shuddered and he grinned.
“What happened when you were in town?”
“Samuel disappeared and then so did your pa. Didn’t think much about it at the time. I was busy with a pretty wench.” He winked and placed a hand on her knee. She shoved the offending hand away.
“I’m married and in case you didn’t notice…my husband is of the jealous sort.”
Cutter snorted. “You’ve got your pa’s spit that’s for sure.”
“So what happened that night?”
“All of a sudden, Mac came running into the saloon where I was sampling and said Irish just gunned down Samuel. Before we could get to them, the marshal had your pa in custody.” Cutter stood and walked to the pot-bellied stove heating the room to a sweltering level. He poured two cups of coffee and returned to the table.
“What happened to my pa?” She wrapped her hands around the cup. If her father had hanged wouldn’t they have notified her mother? Is that why she’d refused to tell her daughter the truth? Could her mother have possibly shown an inkling of compassion for her child?
“We had it all set up to break him out, only Jack went all loco and took off with Irish.” Cutter looked her dead in the eyes. “I don’t know for sure, but I’d bet he killed your pa.”
“So you never saw the body?” She had to hang onto the idea her father might still be out there. Hiding.
Cutter shook his head. “Marsh is tetched and he an’ his brother were close. I may not have seen a body, and Marsh never boasted, but he came back by himself all peaceful. Like he’d conquered the devil that’d been hounding him.” He scanned her and leered. “If not for me, he’d have put a bullet through you soon as he knew you were a Loman.”
A cry erupted from her constricted throat. Her father was dead. Even though after reading his letter she believed that had been his fate, hearing it wracked her with sadness. She wanted Zeke. Wanted his strong arms around her.
“I need to see Zeke.” Her strangled voice filled with emotions she didn’t want a stranger privy to. “Please.”
Cutter stood, grabbed her by the arm and pulled her out of the shack toward the one where they’d delivered the man she was learning to lean on.
****
Voices and footsteps approached. Zeke remained trussed up on the floor and more vulnerable than a child. The knife had proved too dull to cut paper let alone the rope binding him. Whoever it was, they weren’t going to kill him without a fight.
The door opened. The moonlight behind the person blinded him for a moment.
“Zeke.” The sweet voice chased away his rage. The door closed, and Maeve hurried toward him.
“Let me help you up.”
“Just grab my knife and cut the ropes.” The gentle touch of her hands skimming down the side of his leg to find the hilt of the knife in his boot warmed his heart and his body.
The ropes gave way and he surged to his feet, pulling her into his arms. “I thought—you don’t want to know what I thought.” He lowered his lips to her upturned mouth. Maeve sagged against him. Her kiss seemed melancholy rather than rapturous.
He held her head in his hands. “What’s wrong?”
“Cutter told me. My father—” Tears formed in her sad, blue eyes and slid down her cheeks. “He rode with this gang and killed Samuel. And,” she took a deep breath, “Cutter believes Jack killed Pa.” She wrapped her arms around him. “He’s dead. And,” she hiccupped, “he was an outlaw.”
He hugged her trembling body to him. He’d feared once she gained the knowledge of her father, she’d withdraw. But she clung to him, taking the sympathy he had to offer. His heart swelled. Did she finally realize she could need someone and still remain strong? There wasn’t time to consider any of this. They had to leave.
“Why did Cutter let you come see
me?” He kept one arm around her as he moved to look out the window.
“Because I asked.” She wiped at the tears and peered out the window as well.
He stared at her. “You just asked and he let you come see me?” The outlaw didn’t make any sense.
She nodded her head. The dawning of how inconceivable the idea showed on her face. “He’s up to something.”
Nothing moved in front of the shack. But a man sat not ten feet from the door, leaning against a rock, and cradling a rifle in his lap.
“Did he say how long you could stay?” He pulled her to the back of the building and looked for a peephole in the boards.
“No. I just asked to see you, and he led me over here.” Maeve pressed her face against a board. “Looks like they plan to go somewhere. There’s fresh horses saddled.”
He pressed his face against a hole higher on the wall. “I count nine horses. That would be all of them.” He didn’t want to voice the thoughts in his head. Nine horses meant he and Maeve wouldn’t be leaving.
Zeke pulled her to him, clinging to her scent and strength. If they were to make it out alive it would take strategy and quick thinking.
“We need to come up with a plan. Fast.” He led her to the bed and sat, drawing her down beside him. “Did you notice where the men were located when you walked here?”
“Some.” Maeve scrunched her face. “I was upset and didn’t pay proper attention.”
Her declaration swelled his heart. He clasped her hands in his. “Once we get out of this mess, will you marry me?” He held his breath. This wasn’t the time or place for such a question, but he had to ask.
Maeve wanted to say ‘yes’. Wanted to give that hope to Zeke. However, she’d sampled what it was like to make love to him and had no doubt whether they were married or not she could arouse him to the point where he’d make love to her again. She didn’t need a man to take care of her. Her mother had depended on a man and look how she’d ended up. Alone and destitute.
She shook her head. His mouth formed a straight line. The look in his eyes said he was nowhere near defeated.
Zeke’s large hand cupped the back of her head, and his mouth descended on hers. His lips scorched, and his tongue gently stroked her lips, building passion. She didn’t want to fight the emotions. Her hands wound into his hair, pulling him closer. The heat of the kiss seared her skin and made her center throb.
She climbed onto his lap. His hand cupped a breast, and her nipple hardened. A delectable ache formed in her womb as his hands squeezed. He nibbled his way down her neck to the opening of her blouse. The desire building in her mid-section burned hot and fast.
She wanted him. Now.
Her hands fumbled with the button on his pants.
“Hey, not so fast.” Zeke captured her hands. “We should find a way out of here.”
“We can get away after they leave.” She fluttered her eyelashes and licked her lips. The desire in his dark eyes made her nipples tingle.
“Someone could walk in at any minute.” Zeke scanned the room. The board that barred the door shut was missing. He kissed Maeve and stood. Using the rope he’d been tied with, he tied the bracket on the door to the bracket on the wall. They’d know when someone tried to come in.
He returned to the bed. The woman he’d go to his grave protecting reclined on the bed with the buttons of her blouse undone and her lacey chemise barely containing her breasts.
“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he said, lowering his body over the top of hers and nuzzling her offering. His desire for her strained against his Levis.
“Hmmm… but what a way to go.” She cocked an eyebrow and stroked his growing appendage through the clothing.
To keep her occupied, he pushed the chemise down and suckled first one and then the other breast. His knee rubbed against the juncture of her legs. Maeve’s hips rose up to meet each stroke.
He reached between, fumbling with the buttons on her skirt.
The door creaked.
The sound jolted his body like a bucket of cold water.
Chapter 16
He rolled off Maeve, shielding her with his body as the door popped off the hinges.
Smirking, Cutter entered the room. “Well, what do we have here? You’re lucky you were fornicatin’ and not tryin’ to run.”
Zeke rose off the bed, ready to take the man down.
The barrel of a gun pointed at them before he had time to react. “Back off,” Cutter snarled. “Mrs. Halsey, get over here.” He cocked the pistol. “Now, or I shoot your man.”
Zeke put out a hand to stop her, but Maeve rushed by, fastening the top button on her blouse. Her embarrassment made his heart ache. He should have resisted. He should have stayed vigilant. Damn. His lust put them in danger, again.
Cutter stepped aside, allowing three men to enter the building. “Tie his hands and escort him to the other shack.” The man grasped Maeve’s arm, making her grimace. Anger and fear for her propelled Zeke out of the men’s grasp and straight for Cutter.
The pistol pointed at Maeve stopped him cold.
“You behave or I’ll shoot your wife. She means nothing to me.”
He’d seen expressionless eyes before. On the faces of killers. The man meant every word. He’d kill Maeve and not even consider he’d done anything wrong.
“Make sure he’s tied up tight. If I find out you’re causing problems,” he cocked the gun still against Maeve’s heaving side, “she’s dead.”
Cutter pulled Maeve out of the way as the men shoved and prodded Zeke out the door. He glanced back to see where the outlaw took Maeve and got cold-cocked.
Maeve struggled to get free when she saw the man hit Zeke for no reason.
“Uh, uh, uh, same goes for you. Do as I say or your man will be shot.” Cutter pinched the inside of her arm, pulling her to the saddled horses. “We’re going for a ride. We have some money to withdraw. And you’re going to help us.”
All but one of the men who took Zeke away returned to the horses.
“Mount up,” Cutter ordered, motioning for her to get on a horse. After she mounted, he pulled her hands behind her and tied them.
“Don’t want you getting any smart ideas. And remember, you don’t do as I say—when we get back here—I’ll personally put a bullet through your man’s head.”
Fear clenched her heart. She didn’t mind dying, but she’d do everything in her power to keep Zeke alive.
****
Maeve tried to relieve the throbbing in her backside by standing in the stirrups. With her hands tied behind her back, her balance was off, and she plopped back down, further inflaming her sore muscles.
They kept a steady trot-and-walk pattern all night. Finally, Cutter stopped the group at a shabby ranch house. Everyone dismounted, unsaddled, and put their saddles on fresh horses before heading out at a trot once more. Cutter led her horse. He seemed to take pleasure in making sure she didn’t go thirsty and didn’t eat the dust like those riding in the back of the group.
Marsh rode close and sneered at her. Her skin prickled. She swayed away from the hostile man. He glared once more before nudging his horse even with Cutter. The two men slowed the horses and carried on a heated conversation. She leaned forward, hoping to catch a hint of where they were headed.
“What you got to bring her along for?” Marsh asked, looking over his shoulder. Hatred sparked in his eyes.
“She’s gonna keep me alive and be my entertainment.” The chuckle Cutter emitted sent a chill down her back.
“What’ cha gonna do with her while we’re gettin’ the payroll? Someone will notice a woman tied to a horse.”
“She’s going to be the first one entering the bank. No one’s gonna shoot at a woman.”
“I still say we should just shoot her.” Marsh’s voice raised an octave.
“Like you did her pa?”
Marsh didn’t answer. The silence was his condemnation. She knew in that instance he murdered her pa.
&nb
sp; She gulped and wondered if she would make it back to Zeke alive, and if she didn’t would Cutter spare him?
The sun came up, warming her chilled body. Her eyelids felt weighted. Her body slumped…
****
Zeke moved his head and moaned. Why’d the bastard hit him? All he did was look back at Maeve. Maeve. Forcing his eyes open, he scrutinized his surroundings through blurry vision. It was a different shack. Someone breathed behind him. Craning his neck, he could make out a man tied to a chair. He blinked and focused. The clothing appeared expensive.
“Barton?” he whispered unsure if an outlaw stood guard on the other side of the door.
“Yeah. Wondered when you were going to come around.” Barton’s weary voice made him wonder how the man had been treated. “Where’s Maeve?”
The question speared his heart. “I don’t know. When I tried to see where Cutter took her some bastard knocked me out.”
“Horses left here shortly after they brought you in.”
“Nine.” That meant either Maeve was in another shack trussed up like them or…Rage took hold of him like a dog shaking a varmint. “Has anyone checked on us?”
“Yeah, the same guy every time and it’s been hours. I think he’s the only one here.” Barton coughed. His chair was close enough the man’s spasms shook Zeke’s chair.
“I’m going to try and get turned.” Zeke flexed his calf. His knife was still there. “I’ve got a knife in my boot.” He rocked the chair back and forth, pivoting on the legs. Inch by inch, he turned the chair. Sweat dripped down his temples when he finally had his leg next to the man’s hands.
“Feel with your hands. Find the top of my boot.”
Barton strained, stretching his fingers, brushing the top of Zeke’s boot.
“I’ll try to raise my foot.” Tipping the chair onto the back legs, he brought his boot closer to Barton. The man finally grasped the hilt, and Zeke set the chair back on four legs.
“I’ll turn back around. See if you can cut the ropes on my hands.” He started the slow motion of turning the chair.
“I got it.” Barton had cut the ropes binding his hands and was already working on the ones around his body. When he was free, he started slicing through the rope tethering Zeke to the chair.
