Archer, Jane

by Tender Torment

  She looked over at his face, the last rays of the sun showing his own tiredness mingled with his concern for her. She smiled unsteadily. "Yes.

  We've come this far. I'll make it, but you'll have to get me off my horse."

  He laughed shortly. "I'll be happy to do that, Miss Alexandra. And we'll take it easier from now on to Brownsville. I just wanted to be off Bar J property and have a good start on the Jarmons."

  She smiled weakly, shaking her head. He just wouldn't believe that Jake would not come for her. It was over.

  Finally, when night covered the flat Texas prairie, they arrived at the camp Lieutenant Blake had so steadfastly led them toward all day. Alexandra could see the campfire ahead and was grateful for the comfort it would offer in the great expanse of night. She would be only too glad to rest, eat and sleep. Lieutenant Blake slowed his horse so that Alexandra could ride in beside him.

  "We're here, Miss Alexandra. You'll be all right now. Some friends of yours have agreed to help us. I was lucky to meet up with them. They set up the camp, and they'll go back with us to Brownsville."

  Alexandra opened her mouth to protest. She had no friends in Texas. But they were already within the camp. Two men stood up, then walked forward, the light of the campfire behind them casting their bodies in shadows that loomed large and menacing.

  Suddenly Alexandra felt apprehensive. There was something familiar about the forms that approached them. She jerked the horse's reins, starting to turn around. But she was too slow. Four strong hands shot out, grabbing the horse's reins, pulling the animal back.

  "Now, Alexandra, you wouldn't run away again, would you?" a smooth eastern voice chided her.

  "Stan!"

  "At your service, my dear."

  "And would you run away from me also, chérie?" a slow melodious voice of the South be-seeched her.

  "Giles!"

  "Only for you would I come so far, or endure so much."

  "Oh, no. No!" Alexandra sobbed, her voice catching with emotion.

  "Gentlemen, you've startled Miss Alexandra. I know it must be a shock for you, my dear, but then they wanted to surprise you, knowing how happy it would make you," Lieutenant Blake said.

  "Happy? Happy, Lieutenant Blake?"

  "Indeed. Now, gentlemen, we must let Miss Alexandra rest. She's not as strong as we are and it's been a long, hard day."

  "Sure. Sure, Blake," Stan said, stepping back from Alexandra's horse, and Giles also moved to the other side of her pony.

  Lieutenant Blake got off his horse, then walked toward Alexandra. "I'll have you down in just a minute, Miss Alexandra. Then, you can—" he started to say, but his words were lost in the belching of a gun as it went off in his back. Puzzled, he looked up at Alexandra for a brief moment before he fell forward on his face, dead.

  "No! Oh, Stan, no," Alexandra cried, watching Stan quickly pocket the gun before kicking the lieutenant's body over to make sure he was dead.

  Afterward, she thought that she should have known they were going to do something ugly when Stan stepped back and Giles moved to the side. If she hadn't been so tired, or if she hadn't forgotten just how ruthless they were, she might have warned Lieutenant Blake. Now it was too late. Oh, she should have suspected. The lieutenant hadn't known them as she did. She looked down at his handsome face, now smudged with dirt, a large red stain on his chest. Lieutenant Blake would never ride beside her again, protecting her in his kindly way.

  "Come, Alexandra," Stan said as he reached up for her, "the man meant nothing to you."

  "There was no need to kill him, Stan," she said, struggling against his hands as they encircled her waist to lift her down.

  "Of course there was. He would have raised heaven and hell to get you back, and he was in the cavalry. Unfortunately, we needed him to bring you to us, or we'd not have bothered with him at all."

  Growing impatient with her struggles, however feeble, he jerked Alexandra down and she fell weakly against him. He lifted her in his arms and strode into camp. He set her down near the fire where Giles was busily filling a plate of food. In a moment, he turned to Alexandra and handed the tin plate to her.

  "Eat up, Alexandra, ma chère. You must be very tired and hungry."

  He also handed her a strong cup of coffee laced with brandy. She wanted to refuse the food, the coffee, but she was starved, her stomach felt caved in, and if she didn't regain her strength, she'd never be able to figure out a way to escape. She simply had to eat and sleep in order to be able to flee.

  Stan had taken the lieutenant's saddle and bridle off his horse and was now doing the same to Alexandra's mustang. She was glad he would let the horses rest, too. She watched him, her mind sleepily unconcerned, then suddenly gasped as she saw him hit each animal on the rump, sending them flying into the night.

  She sat up in alarm. "What do you mean by running off my mustang?" Alexandra asked angrily, her eyes flashing a brilliant green in the firelight.

  "Now, we couldn't very well go about with a cavalry branded animal, now could we, my dear? And your mustang hardly suits us either."

  "They were good horses," she said stubbornly.

  "I'm sure they were, my dear," Stan said as he walked over to her, carrying a length of rope. "Now, if you'll just hold out your hands, we'll be done here."

  "What?"

  "I'm going to tie your hands, Alexandra. You certainly don't expect me to trust you."

  Alexandra scooted back, then tried to crawl away, but her body was weak, almost lifeless. He grabbed at her, but she kept moving her arms, her legs, jerking them out of his reach. Finally, exasperated, he called for Giles. Soon, they had her pinned down and Stan tied her hands roughly, tightly in front of her.

  They stood up, satisfied. Alexandra pushed herself to a sitting position, her eyes glaring at them as they turned from her. She sat by the campfire helplessly. If only she could rest, then she could think, make plans, but at the moment her mind wouldn't work. She shut her eyes, too tired to even care what her captors were doing.

  When she opened her eyes again, Giles and Stan stood above her. Giles knelt down and lifted her into his arms. She struggled against him, crying out, clubbing at him with her bound hands. But it did no good. Giles carried her away from the camp while Stan put out the fire. The horses were ready to travel, having rested all day long. They were strong, magnificent beasts, and the one Giles carried Alexandra to had a sidesaddle. As he lifted her up, helping her to straighten her garments, the full impact of their plans hit her. They were going to travel all night!

  She groaned, her body rebelling at the thought of more hours in the saddle. "No, Giles," she said, "I can't ride any longer. I've got to rest."

  "A Clarke saying she's tired. I don't believe it, Alexandra. You can sleep in the saddle," Stan said. "I'm going to lead your horse, even if it is slower. I'll never trust you again."

  He picked up the reins to her horse and led it over to his own. Alexandra had to go with them.

  She had no choice. Her hands were bound, she was in the saddle, and Stan led her horse. There would be no Lieutenant Blake to rescue her. Jake would not come either.

  They turned the horses in a northeasterly direction towards the port at Corpus Christi, taking Alexandra with them, their unwilling victim once more.

  Chapter 24

  Jake slid off his horse, then ran, crouching low, into the camp Giles and Stan had left behind. He couldn't be more than a couple of hours behind them now, he calculated, as he turned the still hot campfire ashes over. He'd originally been alerted to Alexandra's plight when he'd found the two horses further back on the trail. The mustang had started back to the Bar J and the cavalry horse had come along. He had them now, tied to his own mustang.

  Jake had left the herd in late morning to check on Alexandra. He thought she'd be safe, but he didn't know about Pecos. He'd not killed the man and there had been the chance he'd return for Alexandra.

  That had been his first thought when he'd found the hacienda empty an
d Alexandra gone. Still, it was strange that there had been no sign of a struggle and only one horse had left with her. He knew he couldn't let her be taken by Pecos and what was left of his Mexican banditos so he'd written a quick note to Lamar, telling him that he'd gone after Alexandra and to go ahead with the drive. He'd try to catch up with them in San Antonio. He'd hated to leave the herd at such a critical time, but he knew Lamar and the cowboys could start the drive without him.

  As the day had worn on, Jake had begun to doubt his first assumption. The trail lead east and north towards the coast, not south toward Mexico. It made no sense.

  After dark, he'd come upon the two horses and caught them, quickly examining their shoes. They were the two horses he'd been tracking all day, but now they wore no tack and were still hot and foamy from the long, hard day. When he'd seen the cavalry brand on the bigger horse, and recognized the other as his own mustang, Jake knew Alexandra had gone with the young lieutenant. Something dark and sinister had risen in Jake's blood at this realization and he had glared into the dark night, determination to find the two blotting out all other thoughts.

  But what had happened to them? Why would they have let their horses go? Finally the seething anger that had at first consumed him gave way to concern for Alexandra's safety. He'd hurried on, taking the two horses with him in case he'd need them later.

  And the tracks had ended at this camp. He realized from the ashes and scraps of food that two other men—judging from footprints—had waited here all day for the lieutenant and Alexandra. Jake found the blood stains in the dirt. He followed them to the mesquite thicket and found the lieutenant's body.

  The picture was complete in his mind. Alexandra had told him she'd been pursued by Stan, a man from New York and Giles. These two men must have joined forces to capture Alexandra. Banditos did not come this far east, and there was no herd here to tempt rustlers. It had to be Giles and Stan.

  Grim determination set in. He'd be damned if he'd let Alexandra be carried off by two devious men set only to get her fortune. The herd could wait a little longer. He had to get to her before they reached Corpus Christi and sailed back to New Orleans.

  He hastily threw the lieutenant's body over the saddle of the cavalry horse, tying it on securely. There was no point in letting the buzzards get the poor devil. He'd only wanted to help Alexandra and had gotten killed for his efforts.

  Jake mounted his own mustang, leading the other horses behind him, then started out once more, determined to catch up with the party by morning.

  Anger burned in him as he pushed the horses on, gaining steadily on the riders ahead of him. They weren't used to the wild Texas land and Jake knew how to ride the country, getting the most from his ponies. And as he rode, he kept seeing Alexandra's green eyes, sometimes soft and laughing, sometimes cold and hard, but always with him. She was always with him no matter her moods, no matter what she did. He could almost feel her thick, soft hair in his hands, her soft, yet firm body beneath his own. That's really why he'd gone back to the hacienda. He was going to ask her to go with him on the trail drive, no matter how foolish, or stupid it seemed. Where Alexandra was concerned, he just couldn't think or act rationally.

  All night he followed, tracking ever closer and closer to the three ahead of him. As day began to dawn, casting its pink light over the country, Jake smiled to himself. They would rest soon. They'd have to. They weren't as used to long hours in the saddle as was he. He'd have them then.

  He knew he was close, when he saw their trail change. The riders had stopped, as if considering what to do. Jake looked quickly around. Yes, he saw it too. A clump of mesquite up ahead that would make a good campsite. That's what they'd done. Good. He'd be able to sneak up on them easily.

  He rode in closer, then veered off to the north until he was out of sight of the camp. He tied the three horses loosely to some low mesquite. Then he hurried, stealthily, toward the camp. When he could hear their voices, he dropped to his stomach. He would take no chances on being discovered.

  He crawled the rest of the way into the mesquite thicket. The day was dawning hot and clear as he raised his head above the brush to assess the camp. His mouth tightened, his eyes narrowing dangerously as he saw Alexandra on the ground near the campfire, her hands bound in front of her. Giles was nearby, impeccably dressed in his dark riding clothes but nervous, pacing. The other man, lean and older, had to be the one called Stan. He sat on his heels, hunkered over the fire, drinking coffee, watching Alexandra.

  Jake stood up, and walked lithely, soundlessly into the camp, his gun drawn and ready.

  Alexandra looked up, her eyes widening in disbelief as she saw Jake standing there, tall, rugged and deadly.

  Giles saw Alexandra start and spun around. Cursing, he grabbed for his gun, fatally disregarding Jake's already drawn forty-five. Jake shot. The slug tore through Giles chest, the force of the deadly projectile knocking him backward to the hard Texas ground.

  But, before the echoes of Jake's first shot had died away, before Jake could fire again, Stan's gun was in his hand. He fired and Alexandra screamed as blood gushed from Jake's head. His gun fired uselessly into the hard packed dirt. He staggered. And as he fell to his knees his eyes sought out Alexandra's, locked onto them for a second then closed as he crumpled to the ground, his gun still clutched in his hand.

  Alexandra screamed again and again, the sound cutting mercilessly through the cool morning air.

  She struggled to her feet, her eyes fastened upon Jake, more screams shattering the dawn.

  Stan slapped her hard across the face. She fell back, blood dripping from her lips as she whimpered, her eyes still on Jake.

  Then Stan leaned down and jerked her up by her raw, swollen wrists. Leaning close to her face, he rasped, "So much for your two fine heroes. My problems are entirely solved. You are mine now, Alexandra dear."

  "No! No, Stan. I'll hate you forever!"

  He laughed harshly, then dragged her to the waiting horses.

  "There's no point in wasting any more time around here. Better things await us in New York."

  "No, Stan. You can have the company. I don't care. Just, just leave me here," Alexandra moaned numbly, her eyes still frozen on the distant, motionless figure of Jake.

  "I told you a long time ago that I intended to have you, Alexandra, and have you I will. We're going to New York."

  He lifted her up and dumped her sore body into the saddle. By late that night, he thought, they'd be in Corpus Christi where they could catch a schooner to New Orleans and once out of Texas, he had no worries. Let the buzzards do their work on those two. It served them right for trying to foil his plans. He quickly unsaddled Giles' horse, then hit it on the rump, sending it running. There would be no questions now.

  Leaping into his own saddle, he looked back at Alexandra, a smile curving his thin, cruel lips. She was his at last.

  Alexandra could barely keep herself in the saddle as Stan led her through the hot, dry land, pushing relentlessly on towards Corpus Christi. Her entire body ached, but it was nothing in comparison to her heart. In the moment that she'd seen Jake standing in the camp—so proud, so dauntless, so defiant—she'd realized her love for him. She had wanted to rush into his arms and tell him she loved him, that she'd go anywhere with him as long as he'd let her. And then he was dead, lost to her forever. She knew she had loved him from the first, but her stubborn pride had not let her admit it. Oh, to be so foolishly late!

  And he'd come for her. He'd left the herd and come for her. It could have meant only one thing. He'd realized, too, that he loved her. He'd come to rescue her and take her back with him to join the trail drive to Abilene. She'd have gone, gladly enduring any hardships, anything to have been by his side. But now he was dead. Dead! She felt lifeless, too. There was nothing left for her, nothing left of Jake.

  No, there was her baby, their baby. Jake's child grew within her. She smiled softly to herself. If it had endured the past few days and nights, then it wanted to liv
e. It was strong and courageous just like Jake had been, like Texas was. She would live to have their child. It was his legacy and she could live knowing that a part of him still lived.

  Once more the day wore into night, but still they traveled, the horses now as tired and weary as their riders. Alexandra slumped forward in her saddle. She fought the sleep that strove to overtake her. She was afraid of falling from her horse and hurting the child which grew inside of her. And so she rode on, fighting the pain, the sleepiness, the painful memories.

  Soon Alexandra could feel a difference in the breeze, the air. She was near the ocean: Corpus Christi. She could smell the salt sea air, feel its moistness on her skin. How different, how very different from the dry, dusty air of south Texas.

  Just outside the town, Stan stopped his horse and pulled Alexandra's up beside him.

  "I'm going to untie you, Alexandra, but don't try to get away, or it'll be painful for you. Don't give me any trouble here. All right?"

  She nodded mutely, her throat dry and rough.

  He quickly cut the rope, throwing it on the ground. "Now, stay beside me when we ride in. It could be rough here. I'll get us a room. Don't say anything to anyone, or I promise you, Alexandra, that anything you've experienced before will seem pleasant in comparison."

  They moved forward again, entering the dusty streets of Corpus Christi. Stan rode steadily toward the one good hotel where they stopped. Inside, it was almost dark, only one lamp burned on the registration desk. Alexandra leaned against the counter for support. He rang the bell once. Waited. Then in irritation rang it several more times. Finally, the owner stumbled down the stairs, a scowl on his face.

  "The lady is exhausted. She's been riding for hours. We need a room for the night," Stan said.

  "Pay in advance and sign here," the man said as he swung the heavy, leather bound ledger around to Stan.

  Alexandra watched him sign, "Mr. and Mrs. Smith". Always careful, even in Texas, she thought. He wanted no dead men rising to haunt him when he was back in New York City. It was just like Stan, just like the cautious, scheming Stan Lewis.