Wilde, Jennifer

by Love's Tender Fury

  I tried to speak. I couldn't. My throat was dry. My lips were sore. I was so terrified I could only shake my head. Billy caught hold of my hair and jerked my head back.

  "When I ask a question, I wanna answer!"

  "I reckon she's stunned, Billy Boy. Hell, man, you went after her like a pack of starving wolves. Her name ain't important. What's important is she's Rawlins's property, and Rawlins is gonna be looking for her. Knowing him, it ain't gonna take him all night to find us."

  Billy looked nervous again. His forehead was moist. He released me and stepped back, his eyes filled with uncertainty.

  "I still don't think this is such a good idea, Jim. That Rawlins is one mean bastard. So he comes lookin' for us and we hear him comin'? What's to stop her from yellin' at him, warnin' him to watch out?"

  The older Brennan sighed and gave his head a little shake. "You're my brother, Billy, and you got lots of brawn, but when it comes to brains—" He shook his head again. "We'll tie her up, gag her. There's some rope looped around the saddle horn and a couple of rags in the pack. Get 'em."

  Billy strode across the clearing, past the fire. I noticed the horse for the first time, tethered to a tree in the shadows, the saddle still in place. I saw the blond take down the rope and open the pack. His brother stood with his arms crossed over his chest, looking both weary and bored. Billy returned. He was perhaps twenty-five years old. While his brother possessed a cool native shrewdness, Billy was plainly both slow and dense. He was the kind of man who blasted his way through life with blazing temper and flying fists, leaving the thinking to someone else. Each man was dangerous in his own way. Together, they were deadly.

  "You want me to tie her up, Jim?"

  Jim Brennan sighed. "If it ain't too much trouble, Billy Boy."

  His sarcasm was wasted on Billy. He seized my arm and dragged me over toward the trees. I was still stunned, and I knew it would be foolish to struggle. My knees were weak. I felt faint. This was a nightmare, a terrible nightmare that surely must end. I told myself that, over and over again, willing myself to hold on. Billy wrenched my arms behind me and crossed my wrists, binding them so tightly I could feel the rope cutting into my flesh. He jerked and tugged, securing the knots, and I winced, gnawing my lower lip to keep from crying out at the pain. When the job was done to his satisfaction, he caught hold of my shoulder and whirled me around.

  "There," he said gruffly. "You ain't gonna get loose uv that."

  "You—you're not going to get away with this," I whispered. "Jeff will come. He'll kill you both."

  "Shut up!"

  "He'll know it's a trap. He'll—"

  "My brother knows what he's doin'!"

  "He'll never fall for it. He's too—"

  He jammed a wad of cloth into my mouth, cutting me short, causing me to gag. He was angry again, his blue eyes flashing savagely as he tied the other rag around my mouth, knotting it in back. Then, scowling darkly, he spread his palm over my face and pushed hard. I tumbled over backwards, falling against a tree trunk. My head seemed to explode, and then I was whirling through a black void, spinning dizzily into oblivion.

  I don't know how long I was out. When I finally opened my eyes, it was to see the Brennan brothers sitting before a fire that was little more than a heap of glowing orange coals. Jim perched on a log, and Billy sat on a large rock nearby, gripping his knees tensely. Their faces were shadowed, Billy's blond hair gleaming in the semidarkness. I could see the horse behind Billy moving restlessly. Beyond the circle of light from the dying fire there were layers of darkness. The forest seemed to close about the clearing ominously, trees pressing nearer.

  "When's he gonna get here?" Billy exclaimed.

  "Should be soon now," his brother replied. "It's been dark for nigh on two hours now. He's gonna be real careful, and he's not gonna do anything impulsive because of the woman. Keep your britches on, Billy. When he gets here we'll know it."

  "What if he shoots first?"

  "Rawlins don't play it that way. He'll step right into the clearing. He'd be afraid to do anything before he sees the woman's all right. Don't worry."

  "You gonna—"

  "Soon as he steps through them trees, I'm gonna lift this here pistol and blow his head off."

  "Man 'ud be a fool to just come marchin' into—"

  "I told you, Billy, I got it all figured out. We ain't gonna hear him, see? We're gonna be sitting here real casual like, like we're not expecting him at all, and he'll think he's taking us by surprise."

  "I still don't like it!"

  "Shut up, Billy," his brother said patiently. "Just think about the woman. Think what you're gonna do to her after Rawlins gets his."

  My head was throbbing viciously. The rope was biting into my wrists. I desperately needed to swallow, but I was afraid to, afraid I would strangle on the wad of cloth Billy had crammed into my mouth. When I had fallen against the tree, I had slumped on down to the ground, and I was leaning against the tree now, my legs spread out in front of me. Jeff would come. He would be here any minute now, and he would do exactly as Brennan predicted. He would see them sitting there, and he would step into the clearing with his rifle raised, thinking he was taking them by surprise. Then Jim would raise his pistol, quickly, before Jeff could see what was happening. That was why they had let the fire die down, so he wouldn't spy Jim's hand gripping the pistol at his side.

  Several minutes passed. An owl hooted in the night. A frog croaked. Leaves crackled as a breeze stirred through the trees. Jim sat as still as a statue, waiting. Billy shifted about nervously. He was obviously terrified of Jeff. Jeff must have given him a terrible beating, and that wouldn't have been easy to do. Billy was stocky and strong. It would take an incredibly adept fighter to get the better of him. There was a side to Jeff I had never seen. It was hard to believe that the raffish charmer could be the same man who made Billy Brennan tremble, the man who had risked his life to rescue Lita from the Indians. Now he was going to step right into the trap Brennan had set for him, and I was responsible. I couldn't let it happen. There had to be some way I could prevent it, some way I could warn him.

  I tensed. There was something behind me. I could sense a presence, feel it strongly, even though there hadn't been a sound. Someone was there, just behind the tree. I could hear breathing now, soft, so soft, and the faint sound of a body inching nearer. Fingers touched my own, and his whisper was so low I had to strain mightily to catch the words.

  "I'm going to cut you free. Don't make a move. Keep looking straight in front of you. When I've cut the rope, keep your arms in back of you and keep still—"

  My heart started to pound. It pounded so loudly I felt sure the Brennans could hear it beating against my chest. Neither of them so much as glanced at me. They thought I was still unconscious. I could feel the cold metal sides of the knife rubbing against my wrists as he sawed at the ropes with the razor-sharp blade. I could feel the rope giving as strand after strand was severed. He cut swiftly, silently. A moment later the ropes fell away. It was all I could do to keep from flexing my wrists and rubbing them, but I dared not make a single movement that might draw their attention.

  "Just sit there like a good girl," he whispered, "and then, when the shooting starts, I want you to jump up and dart behind this tree. You got it? Don't make a move till I fire."

  I had to warn him! Somehow I had to warn him. Yet I couldn't possibly do anything now. If I tried to reach up and unfasten the gag, the Brennans would see. I heard the faintest scraping noise, and I knew he was gone. The sense of presence was missing. How long had he been there? Long enough to hear their talk? He was planning something. That's why he had cut me loose. What was he going to do? The tension was almost impossible to bear. Several more minutes passed, and then there was a loud crash on the other side of the clearing.

  Both men leaped to their feet, turning to the sound. Billy was shaking. Jim had his pistol ready, aiming into the trees.

  "Brennan!"

  The shout came from
another direction, and Jeff stepped into the clearing even as they whirled around. There was a thundering blast, a streak of orange flame, a huge gust of smoke. A man screamed. I leaped to my feet, and through the smoke I saw Jim Brennan clutching his chest. Blood seeped through his fingers, and his face was a mask of incredulity. Eyes wide with shocked disbelief, he gave another anguished cry and toppled to his knees, showers of scarlet blood spurting as he threw his arms out and flopped over the log he had been sitting on only seconds before. The barrel of Jeff's rifle was still smoking, but he looked calm, almost bored.

  Billy Brennan tore the reins loose from the tree where they had been fastened and leaped into the saddle, his red shirt billowing wildly. Digging his knees into the horse's side, he gave its rump a resounding slap, and horse and rider tore into the woods before the smoke had even cleared. As I pulled the gag off and spat out the rag in my mouth, I was trembling violently and my knees threatened to give way. It had been less than sixty seconds since the rock Jeff had hurled had crashed into the woods.

  He strolled over to the fallen man. Putting his foot against Brennan's side, he gave the body a shove, and Brennan rolled over like a limp, bloody rag doll. Jeff examined the corpse without emotion. I shuddered, turning my head away from the grotesque sight. We could hear horse hooves pounding through the woods, the noise fading in the distance.

  "That's brotherly love for you," Jeff remarked. "He didn't even wait to see if Jim was dead or alive."

  "You're not going after him?"

  "No need to. He won't bother us none. Besides, without his brother to do his thinking for him, he won't last a breakfast spell out here. Are you all right?"

  "I—"

  When I couldn't continue, he stepped over to me and pulled me into his arms, holding me loosely against him. I was still trembling, going through a delayed reaction that was even worse than the initial horror, and Jeff murmured soft words, comforting me. I clung to him, sobbing now, and he stroked my hair. It was several minutes before I grew still. I looked up into those warm brown eyes. He grinned, touching my cheek.

  "You thought I was a goner, didn't you? Thought I was gonna walk right into their trap? Not likely. I knew something was up. It was just too simple. I hung around out there for a good twenty minutes before I finally decided how to play it."

  "I was brushing my hair, and—at first I thought it was Indians, and then—I was so relieved to see it was a white man. He and his brother had seen us earlier. He came to investigate. But when I suddenly realized who he was, he grabbed me and—"

  "It's over now," he said quietly. "You're shaken up, but you're going to be all right."

  "It was you I was worried about. I thought—"

  Jeff placed his hand over my mouth, and then he squeezed me tightly and held me like that for a moment before releasing me. He picked up Brennan's pistol and thrust it into the waistband of his breeches, then glanced around the clearing as though to see if there was anything else worth taking.

  "Reckon we'd better mosey on back to our own camp now," he said casually. "It's a good long walk, and we still haven't eaten. Billy Boy'll probably sneak back to bury his brother. You all right now?"

  I nodded. It was over. The nightmare had ended at last.

  Jeff grinned, and then he put his arm around my shoulders, leading me out of the clearing. He was his old self again, chattering blithely as we moved through the dark woods.

  "Know what? I shot me the biggest, fattest gobbler you ever seen. I'm gonna clean it, and then I'm gonna roast it, and we're gonna have us the dandiest meal we've had yet. Talk about workin' up an appetite—"

  CHAPTER 19

  I awoke with a start. There was no grogginess, no period of transition. One minute I was asleep, the next I was completely awake, and I sensed immediately that something was wrong. I could feel it in my bones. I sat up, pushing the blankets away. Jeff was gone. He had been nestled under the blankets with me, and now he wasn't here. I had the feeling that he had been gone for some time. Why had he left me alone like this? It had never happened before. I got to my feet, deeply alarmed.

  The sky was an ashy gray, the stars gradually dimming, barely visible behind a misty haze. The sun would be coming up quite soon now. I could see the campsite clearly, see the heap of charred logs that had been our fire last night, the pile of packs Jeff had removed from the mules. The mules were tethered to a tree at the edge of the woods. Jenny was nibbling the grass, and... one of the mules was missing. The third mule, the one that carried most of the packs, wasn't there. Why should Jeff leave like this, taking one of the mules with him? It didn't make sense.

  None of it made sense. I was beginning to grow even more alarmed. Could Billy Brennan have crept up and stolen one of the mules and Jeff have gone after him? No, that was absurd. Five days had passed since Billy had torn off into the woods on his horse, and there had been no sign of him. He was terrified of Jeff, and creeping up to our camp was the last thing he would dream of doing. There was little chance we would ever see him again. He could make much better time on horseback than we could on mules, and he was probably two hundred miles away by this time.

  But where had Jeff gone, and what had happened to the mule? If there had been any noise, I would have awakened. I felt certain of that. Jeff had slipped out from under the blankets and crept away into the woods, deliberately making no noise for fear of waking me. There was probably some very simple explanation, I told myself. Perhaps the mule had chewed through the tether rope and wandered off. No doubt I was being foolish, feeling this alarm, but I couldn't shake it. No matter how hard I tried to reason with myself, the alarm remained, mounting as more and more time passed and Jeff still didn't appear.

  The dense forest surrounded me, seemed to engulf me. I was acutely aware of every noise, acutely aware of being alone. The last star flickered out, and the misty haze vanished to reveal a pearl-gray sky. As the pink and orange stains began to spread on the horizon, color began to appear around me, black and gray and silver giving way to the green of leaves, the blue of wildflowers, the tan and brown of tree trunks. Pale sunlight streamed over the treetops, growing stronger. We were usually on our way by this time. My alarm increased. I was on the verge of tears now, frightened, feeling lost. Where was he? What... what if he didn't come back?

  A mockingbird began to sing in the trees. A raccoon peered out at me from behind a clump of bushes and quickly disappeared when I turned to look at him. The mules stirred restlessly. I heard something far, far away in the woods. It sounded like a shriek. A wildcat? The noise was not repeated. I took up my rifle. It was already loaded. It gave me some feeling of security. That feeling vanished after a while. What good was my rifle if Jeff was gone? Without Jeff I would be... I refused to think about that. I had to be sensible. I couldn't panic.

  I put the rifle down. I gathered up wood and dry brush and placed it over the charred logs, and after two or three minutes with the flint I had the fire going. Jeff had walked to the stream and filled the old kettle with water before going to bed last night. I took the tin of coffee out of one of the packs and scooped coffee into the kettle, not bothering to measure it as I usually did. Coffee was precious, and this was our last tin, but I didn't let that bother me this morning. When the fire had died down enough, I set the kettle on it. I took out the battered tin mugs. I folded up the blankets and put them back in the packs.

  I fought the alarm. I forced back the tears. I wouldn't let myself go to pieces. The sunlight was strong now, the clearing bathed with radiant yellow-white rays. Birds were singing all around. Fifteen minutes had passed since I had heard that peculiar noise in the distance. A wildcat. Of course it had been a wildcat. I wouldn't let myself believe it had been anything else. There had been no sign of Indians. Jeff had assured me they were well away from the area.

  The coffee was boiling vigorously, filling the air with a rich, pungent aroma. Another five minutes passed. I fetched a cloth and took the kettle off the fire, setting it down on a rock, and it
was then that I heard the footsteps approaching. I seized the rifle again, aiming it in the direction of the noise, and then the bushes parted and Jeff stood there with a surprised look in his eyes. I lowered the rifle. Looking relieved, he strolled on into the clearing.

  "Hoped I'd get back 'fore you woke up," he remarked. His voice was casual. Much too casual.

  "Where were you?"

  "Uh... well, you see..." He hesitated, obviously trying to think up a plausible story. "I woke up, and I... I noticed that one of the mules had broken loose and just... wandered off. I went to look for it."

  "Where is it?"

  "Couldn't find it," he replied. "It musta wandered off early, right after we went to sleep. Musta been gone for hours before I went out lookin' for it."

  His manner was definitely too casual. He was keeping something from me. I sensed it immediately.

  "You could track down the Brennan brothers," I said, "but you couldn't find a mule that wandered away from camp."

  "Yeah. I feel kinda stupid, but—"

  "You're lying, Jeff."

  He gazed at me with hurt brown eyes, managing to look like a particularly virile choirboy. It was then that I noticed the cut on his leg. The buckskin was slit perhaps four inches alongside his right thigh. The edges of the slit were stained red, still wet.

  "What happened to your leg? You're hurt—"

  "Aw, it's nothin', Marietta. Nothin' to get into a stew about. I ran into a thornbush, long, sharp thorns. Caught my breeches on one of the thorns, scratched myself. Say, is that coffee?"

  "Jeff—"

  His manner was suddenly stern, irritable, and a deep frown creased his brow. "The mule's gone, Marietta," he snapped. "Forget about it. I'm back now. Everything's all right."

  "I heard a shriek in the woods. I thought it was a wildcat. Jeff, I want to know the truth. The mule didn't just wander off. You're keeping something from me."

  "I said forget it!"

  He had never spoken to me so sharply before. I knew that he was worried, and I suspected the reason why. He poured a cup of coffee and banged the kettle back down so sharply that hot liquid spurted out of the spout and burned his hand. He let out an outraged cry and then glared at me as though I were responsible. I turned away from him, angry myself. I could hear him digging through the packs, cursing volubly when he was unable to locate whatever it was he was looking for.