Wayward Lady

by Nan Ryan

  Austin ripped open the box. Suzette’s clothes tumbled out: the pink wool skirt, soiled silk blouse, frilly petticoats and underwear, sheer stockings, and soft leather shoes. Tom saw the big man sway and was at his side instantly. He caught Austin just as his knees buckled. Shoving him into the chair behind the oak desk, Tom tried in vain to pull a lacy petticoat from Austin’s hands. For a long time Tom talked quietly to his friend. Finally he gave up and turned to leave. “If you need me, Austin, I’ll be in the kitchen.”

  Austin gave no answer. He sat clutching the petticoat as though he would never release it. He was still there when the winter sun went down, leaving the spacious room in the shadowy light from the dying fireplace. Deaf to Kate’s pleas that he should eat dinner, the despondent man remained where he was, staring into space, tenderly touching the soft, feminine belongings of the beautiful wife he wasn’t sure he’d ever touch again.

  Suzette stood at the stove and stirred the large pot of stew. Maria smiled at her. “Dish it up, Suzette. The men are at the table.”

  Nodding, Suzette ladled the hot, spicy stew into large bowls. She carried the first bowl into the dining room, glancing automatically at Kaytano. He was seated at the head of the table, and his eyes followed her as she came through the door. Suzette carried the heavy bowl the length of the table, placing it directly in front of Kaytano. Inwardly she cringed when he lifted his hand, then relaxed when his fingers went to his face. With deliberate, exaggerated strokes, he traced the long, deep scratches on his right cheek, drawing in his breath as though in pain. She longed to reach out and claw the other cheek, but she ignored him, and with a toss of her head she returned to the kitchen to bring more stew.

  When all the food had been dished up and the men were eating, Suzette stood in the kitchen slicing big pieces of pie for their dessert. In the week she’d been in camp, she’d quickly adapted to the strange new way of life and there were moments when she forgot how frightened and alone she was.

  She’d awakened on that first morning to find a tub of hot water waiting for her. On one of the chairs she discovered a pair of denim breeches, a plaid shirt, a pair of soft brown moccasins, a hairbrush, and a bar of soap and a towel. For her use, the smiling, friendly Mexican woman had assured her.

  “I am Maria, señora,” the chubby brown woman said by way of introducing herself. “I speak English and I will be your friend. Kaytano, he wait outside door to speak with you. When you clean, you come to kitchen, sí?”

  Suzette nodded and rose from the bed. Maria disappeared and a cool, imperious Kaytano came into the room. He was immaculate, which made the long, red scratches all the more noticeable. Suzette’s eyes flickered to his. Would she be punished for her foolish transgression?

  As if reading her thoughts, Kaytano touched his face. “I’ll overlook it this once. You were frightened and upset.” His dark, brooding face was serious, his presence intimidating. Suzette took a step backward as he walked to her. Undaunted, he followed until the wall ended her retreat. Trapped, she stood looking at him, remembering all the terrible things she’d said the night before, sure he was remembering, too. Suzette held her breath.

  “You need a bath,” said Kaytano quietly. “Wash your hair, too. I’ve laid out fresh clothes for you. When you are cleaned up, I’ll come for you.” He left the room while Suzette stood plastered to the wall, trying to understand what the tall, slim bandit had in mind for her.

  With a dismissive shake of her head, Suzette undressed and climbed into the tub. She was soaping her long, tangled hair when Maria bustled in, offering help. Assuring the stocky Mexican woman that she could manage, Suzette protested when Maria picked up her soiled clothes from the floor.

  “Where are you taking my things, Maria?”

  Her swarthy face reddening, Maria hastily explained. “Señora, Kaytano say I am to bring to him everything. He say you will wear trousers and shirt.”

  “Yes, I will, Maria, but I must have something to wear underneath. Surely he doesn’t expect me to go about in only the trousers and shirt.”

  The woman looked uncomfortable. “Yes, he does.” She carried the soiled clothing from the room.

  Suzette, dressed in the trousers that fit over her hips snugly and the man’s plaid shirt, stood in front of the cracked mirror brushing the tangles from her long, clean hair. When there was a soft knock on the door, Suzette knew it was Kaytano. He entered, but left the door open behind him.

  “Come,” he said, “dry your hair in the sun.”

  Feeling naked and embarrassed without underclothes, she walked past him and lifted her chin. If he noticed, he gave no sign. He took her into the sunny courtyard and introduced her to his men, as though she were a guest.

  Most of the names ran together, but a few stood out; one was the small gray-haired man she remembered from the dining room the night before. She recalled the affection he showed Kaytano.

  “This is Pancho Montoya. He is my friend and he is second in command here. Should you need anything when I’m away, Pancho will see to it.”

  “Señora,” Montoya bowed and smiled warmly. “I am honored to meet such a charming and beautiful lady.”

  Suzette nodded but remained silent. She couldn’t believe what was happening. The conceit and arrogance of Kaytano were unbelievable. He acted as though she were there of her own free will and that she actually wanted to meet his gang of cutthroats and murderers! He called each one by name and presented her as though she were his woman. She wanted to scream that she considered his ragged band of outlaws repulsive and that she had no intention of associating with them or him.

  Finally, Kaytano took her inside and turned her over to Maria, explaining that Suzette would help out with the cooking and cleaning.

  “Maria is a very good cook; she will teach you.” He looked at Suzette.

  Taking offense, Suzette shot back, “What makes you think I can’t cook?”

  Kaytano shrugged. “I would imagine you’re out of practice. However, you shall…” Kaytano stopped speaking and his black eyes lit up. The tiny girl Suzette had seen the evening before came into the kitchen. Her pretty brown face was dirty, as was her dress. Her bare feet were caked with mud.

  Maria’s hands flew to her full cheeks. “Díos! Connie, you are like orphan!”

  To Suzette’s amazement, Kaytano smiled at the dirty child and crouched down, his long arms held out to her. Giggling happily, the grimy little girl ran to him. Kaytano rose with her in his arms. When Connie’s small brown hand touched his scratched cheek and she frowned and said the word “hurt,” the dark man smiled and kissed her nose.

  “No, sweetheart,” he soothed, “I’m fine, just fine.” He left the kitchen carrying the beautiful child. Suzette noticed that Connie’s dirty bare feet were pressed against the crisp, clean shirt he wore, but Kaytano didn’t seem to mind at all.

  “Kaytano seems very fond of your Connie,” Suzette said after he’d gone.

  “He love her! He spoil all my children and they adore him.”

  As that first day came to a close, Suzette grew nervous again. After the evening meal, she helped Maria clear away the dishes and wash them. By the time they finished, the dining room was deserted.

  “I am tired, señora,” Maria said sweetly. “I will see you in the morning.” With that, Maria went to her quarters, leaving Suzette alone. There was little hope of escape; men’s voices came from just outside the front door. Suzette sighed and went into her small room. She was standing at the window looking out wistfully when Kaytano entered. She turned as he locked the door.

  Leaning against it, he said in a conversational tone, “As you have seen, this is the room where you and I will sleep each night. When you are not helping Maria, you will stay in this room. At night the door will be locked to discourage any attempts on your part to escape. However, since there is a window in the room, further discouragement will be necessary.” He looked into her eyes and drew a cigar from his breast pocket. Cupping his brown hands, he lit it, then mo
ved closer to her. “You will undress each night and give your clothes to me. I will fold them and place them under my pillow.”

  Suzette stared at him. He never ceased to amaze her. Twenty-four hours ago, he’d let her hit him, claw his face, shout insults, all without lifting a hand to stop her. Then he’d tenderly washed her face and neck and covered her up. He’d been almost kind. Now he was telling her he would take all her clothes from her and lock her up at night! Was last night his way of letting her rest and clean up before he took her?

  A chill ran up her spine, and she moved away from him. “Please, don’t do this. If you don’t harm me, you’ll get a lot of money from my husband. Isn’t that why you wanted all my clothes? Didn’t you want to prove to Austin that you have me? If you send him those things and arrange a meeting, he’ll pay you a big ransom. I won’t run away, I’ll wait for you to get the money.”

  “Your clothes will be sent to your husband,” he said flatly, stepping between the two beds. He blew out the lamp on the small table, throwing the room into darkness. The glowing red tip of his cigar illuminated his dark, handsome face. Suzette watched as he unbuttoned his shirt and removed it. She could see only the outline of his slender, long-waisted torso. She whirled around, her heart drumming in her ears. She could hear him taking off his tight black trousers. The bed squeaked when he got into it.

  “Suzette,” he spoke softly from his bed, “take off your clothes and give them to me.”

  Feeling as though the worst were finally going to happen, Suzette gritted her teeth and turned from the window. With feet of lead she crossed the room to the beds. In the dim light she could barely make out Kaytano’s bare shoulders and dark head, the white sheet pulled up to his waist. Trembling, she turned away from him and started unbuttoning her shirt. Expecting him to rise at any minute and pull her down to him, she pushed the shirt apart and down her shoulders.

  Suddenly it was so quiet in the room she could hear her own breathing. And Kaytano’s. She was terrified, her hands shaking so badly she had trouble getting the tight denim trousers down over her hips. Hot tears slid down her cheeks when she stepped out of the pants and kicked off her moccasins. Naked, she stood with her back to him, waiting for the inevitable. A sob was tearing at her throat. Resolutely she folded her clothes and held them behind her, her arm jerking involuntarily. She felt the clothes being taken from her hand and heard his deep voice. “Thank you. Get into bed.”

  A cry tore from her lips as she pulled back the covers and slid into the narrow bed. Pulling the sheet up to her chin, she clutched it to her and cried. In the narrow bed next to hers, the red glow of a cigar moved back and forth. Tense and waiting, Suzette tried to draw into herself. Finally she saw him snuff out the cigar in a dish on the table. She was all too aware of his black eyes on her.

  But her captor shocked her once again. “Please,” he whispered, his voice warm, “don’t cry. Sleep now.”

  26

  As a cold blustery March hit the plains, the mournful sigh of the winds swirling about the Brand mansion echoed the loneliness of the big, sorrowful man within. Austin fought despair, knowing that for Suzette’s sake he must remain hopeful, alert, ready to ride at any hour should news of her whereabouts come.

  With the passing of each long, lonely day, he grew more despondent. His friend Tom Capps was growing as concerned for Austin’s well-being as he was for the absent Suzette. Austin was losing weight, and his face grew gaunt, his eyes hollow. He neither ate nor slept properly and the effects were taking their toll.

  At sundown on a long, cold Saturday, Tom Capps sat with Austin in the dining room of the mansion. Tom had come for supper and Kate had outdone herself, hoping to tempt Austin to eat. He tried, but the tasty roast beef would not go down. Pushing his plate aside, Austin reached for a decanter of brandy. Offering Tom a glass, he shrugged when Tom declined, then drank glass after glass of the fiery liquid, all the while speaking of the happy days aboard the Alpha with his angel, Suzette.

  When the decanter was empty, Tom Capps pushed back his chair. “Austin, old friend, please let me help you up to bed.”

  Austin looked up and laughed hollowly. “Bed? Do you think I sleep anymore? I don’t want to sleep. She may need me.” He rose on wobbly legs. “Suzette may…she might…”

  “Come on, I’ll help you upstairs.” Tom quickly lent his support to a very unstable Austin. From the open door of the kitchen where she’d been quietly observing the two men, Kate hurried in, nodding to Tom. She put an arm around Austin’s waist. Together Tom and Kate were able to get the big man upstairs. While Kate turned back the covers, Tom removed Austin’s boots. Austin, his lids drooping, his fingers struggling with the buttons of his shirt, was speaking softly, his words running together.

  “What is it, Austin?” Tom leaned close. “What can I get you?”

  “Not…here…I…” Austin sighed and clutched at Tom’s shirtfront.

  “I don’t understand, old friend.” Tom’s creased face was troubled.

  Austin blinked and spoke louder, his body tensing, trying to rise. “Not…not…the blue…her…”

  Kate, standing nearby, nodded her head in understanding. “Tom,” she said quietly, “he wants to sleep in her bed. He wants to sleep in the blue room.”

  “Yes…yes…” Austin bobbed his head up and down. “Blue…her…”

  With effort, he was taken into the next room. Kate rushed to throw back the covers while Tom managed to get Austin’s shirt off. Austin’s rugged face took on an almost peaceful look when he stretched out and hugged a soft, blue pillow, murmuring thickly, “Suzette…my wife.”

  Kate turned and fled.

  Tom Capps covered the sleeping man with the blue sheets. “Sleep, Austin. Forget for just a while.” Then he put out the lamp by the bed and tiptoed from the quiet room.

  Hundreds of miles away at Robber’s Roost in the Big Bend country of Texas, Suzette Brand lay wide awake in her narrow bed, thinking of her husband. Knowing Austin as she did, she couldn’t understand why he hadn’t ransomed her yet. It made no sense. Weeks had passed since Kaytano sent her clothes to him. She was certain the half-breed had spelled out the terms of her release. What was Austin waiting for? Why didn’t he come for her?

  Suzette longed for her husband. The days were not so bad; she was busy helping Maria with the cooking, cleaning, and laundry. She was glad Kaytano made her work; the time passed faster when she was occupied. The nights were terrible. Unwilling to associate with Kaytano and his gang, Suzette retreated to their room each evening as soon as the supper dishes were cleared away and spent countless hours at the window. Having no diversion, nothing to do in the tiny room, she often watched the men in the courtyard. Some nights a couple of the Mexicans brought out guitars and strummed softly. The sweet, romantic music only magnified her distress and loneliness.

  During those hours of gazing out the window, Suzette’s eyes returned again and again to the dark, brooding Kaytano. He usually sat on the broad porch, his back against a post, his long legs stretched out in front of him, or his knees bent with his arms around them. A long, black cigar was always clenched between his white teeth. She wondered what was running through his mind as he sat there, moving little, saying nothing.

  When the men began to break up for the evening, Suzette hurried to get undressed and into her bed before Kaytano came in. She’d blow out the lamp, strip, fold her clothes, and place them under Kaytano’s pillow. Then she’d slip into her bed, pulling the sheet up under her chin. She always closed her eyes tightly, wanting him to think her asleep.

  When he entered the room, she always held her breath. Every night she was filled with the same gnawing fear. Would he turn back the covers and crawl into bed with her? Would he rape her while she struggled helplessly, the sounds of her screams filling the quiet house? Would he become violent and beat her when she screamed?

  While she lay awake in the darkness, so close to Kaytano she could reach out and touch him, she turned her head to look at
him. He lay on his back, the sheet at his waist. In the dim light she studied his profile. In repose, his hard features looked softer, the tight mouth fuller. The thick black hair tumbled over his high forehead, and those incredibly long lashes hid the disturbing black eyes. His brown satiny chest rose evenly with his breathing, while a long, lightly muscled arm lay across his stomach.

  Suzette gripped the sheet with one hand and raised herself on an elbow. He looked so harmless and peaceful. Almost boyish. He moaned a little in his sleep and turned over, burrowing his head under his pillow. His brown hand pushed the pillow from the bed to the floor, but still he slept.

  Suzette’s shirt and trousers lay at the head of his bed in plain sight. To her delight, Kaytano’s head was not touching them. Suzette’s heart began to pound. They lay there, tempting her to take them and dress! She knew the key to the door was in Kaytano’s trousers pocket. His trousers hung on the back of a chair. Suzette twisted her head about to locate them. Smiling in the darkness, she saw them only a few feet from her. Easing up into a sitting position, she looked back at Kaytano. He was sleeping soundly, dead to the world.

  If she had her clothes and the key, she could slip out quietly. Outside she could avoid the guard at the gate by climbing over the fence at the back of the building. If she could manage to get a horse from the remuda, so much the better. If not, she could walk out of the canyon. By morning she could be up on top! Excitement made her palms perspire. Suzette felt hope swelling in her breast. Perhaps with any luck she’d be back in her husband’s big, comforting arms within a few days. The thought was so pleasant that Suzette had to fight back a happy sigh.

  Lying down again, she carefully planned exactly what she would do. The first thing would be to get the key from Kaytano’s pocket. Without the key, her clothes would do her no good. The key pressed in her palm, she’d crawl quietly to his bed and slowly pick up her clothes. If he didn’t wake up, she’d dress rapidly, unlock the door, and slip from the room. In seconds she’d be outside, across the courtyard and over the fence, and on her way to freedom. She’d run as fast as her legs would carry her until she was out of sight of the compound.