Down in the Valley

by Jane Shoup

  The moment he first put his mouth on her breast and sucked on her nipple.

  The moment he shifted down her body and cupped his hand over her mound. “Soft,” he rasped. She was crying by then, still begging him to stop when he inserted his finger inside her. He was looking at her, his mouth slightly parted, his jaw clenched, a low breathy sound coming from his throat. “Does that hurt? That’s just one, baby. Just one. You gotta take all of me.”

  Consumed with panic, she kicked and clawed, which he managed to block for the most part.

  “You do know that a wife’s body is the property of her husband.”

  “I’m n-never m-marrying you,” she stammered. “Never!”

  “Sure you are.”

  “Everyone c-calls you s-scum and I n-never believed it—”

  His face darkened. “Don’t go making me mad, Emmy,” he warned. He got to his feet and gave her a hard look. “A husband also has the right to beat his wife anytime she needs it.”

  She’d glared back, feeling more hatred and betrayal than she’d ever felt before. “I am not your wife and I never will be,” she swore. “Never! I hate you! I hate you!”

  How had she been so unlucky? Or was she cursed? Amy had secretly detested her and she’d probably cursed the day Em had come to stay with them. Had she also cursed her? Could hate do that? The rooster began crowing and Em was glad of it. She got up and went inside to dress and get to work on something. Anything.

  Chapter Twelve

  It took all Em’s strength to unsaddle her horse after the day’s work. She’d completed the repairs on the largest corral, a real accomplishment, but she felt it in every muscle. She leaned against the railing and pulled off her gloves, then started out of the stable. A long, hot soak was what she needed.

  “Hey there, pretty lady,” a man said.

  She whirled around, startled by the unfamiliar voice and saw two men sauntering toward her. The expressions on their faces frightened her. “Wha—” Her voice failed her. “What do you want?”

  The man in the lead position had unkempt, stringy brown hair. “Figured you might need some company,” he said with a shrug.

  Em backed up as they advanced on her.

  “I’m thinking you must be awful damn lonely now that your uncle croaked and left you all alone,” he continued.

  “Get off my property!”

  “Aw, now, why you want to go and be like that for? We come all the way over here just to give you some company and you’re going to be rude?” He gestured to his partner, who then lunged forward at her with astonishing speed.

  She tried to get away, but he was on her too fast. He grabbed hold and yanked her back around to face the other man. Her arm was pinned behind her so tightly, the muscles burned. One of her captor’s hands was positioned around her neck, forcing her back against him, and she smelled his hot, sour breath. It was nauseating. Fear was nauseating her.

  “She’s shaking like a leaf,” her captor taunted. “And look at them titties poking out.”

  “Means she wants it, no matter what she says,” the leader replied as he came toward her. He grabbed hold of her breasts.

  “Get off me!” she cried.

  “Sweet thing, I’m going to ride you so hard your eyeballs’ll dance.” With a yank, he ripped her shirt open, sending buttons flying.

  She screamed and kicked out at him, then made her legs go limp, but the man in back must have been expecting it, because he jerked her right back up.

  “And after I get done,” the leader said, “my friend here is gonna take a turn.”

  The man who held her was snorting with laughter, but his grip felt like iron. With a sinking feeling, she realized she was powerless to stop them. “Let me go or I’ll kill you,” she threatened anyway.

  The leader began unfastening her trousers. “What’s a woman doing wearing men’s clothes, anyway? Have you forgotten you’re a woman?”

  “I think she did forget,” the man behind her taunted. “Think we can remind her?”

  “Let her go,” a calm, male voice said from behind them.

  The leader jerked his gaze over and glared at whoever had spoken. “What the hell are you doing here? Did you follow us?”

  “Let her go, and back away,” the voice repeated.

  The leader considered the man who’d spoken. “You gonna make me?” He suddenly snorted. “Oh, you’re going to shoot me? You’re going to shoot your own brother?”

  “Not if you let her go. Just get on out of here.”

  Em couldn’t breathe. Everything had happened so fast, she didn’t know how to respond, although her entire body was shaking.

  The leader sneered. “You can have a turn. Alright? Christ’s sake, probably do you good.”

  In his distraction, the leader had backed up a step and Em saw an opening. She jerked her knee up into his groin with all her might and it doubled him over. It also alarmed the man holding her, and he tightened his grip. “You shouldn’t a’ done that,” he hissed as his fingers dug into the sides of her neck.

  “It’s over, Blue,” the stranger exclaimed. “Let go of her.”

  The leader looked murderous as he straightened and raised his hand to backhand her, but the sound of a shotgun cocking stopped him from delivering the blow. Grudgingly, he lowered his hand. “You’re not going to shoot me, so put that thing down,” he yelled.

  “I won’t shoot you in the head,” the man said calmly.

  “I don’t think you’ll shoot at all.”

  “I’m not going to let you hurt her.”

  “What is it to you?”

  The man holding Em finally loosened his grip. He was obviously watching what was going on between the two brothers. Em jerked hard and got away from him, but the leader grabbed hold of her before she could get away and she was whirled about to face the house. And Tommy Medlin. Tommy Medlin had come to her rescue. His brother had come to molest her and he’d come to rescue her. Tommy’s gaze was fixed on his brother. He also had a long-barreled shotgun aimed at him.

  “Get out of here, Blue,” Tommy warned.

  The man who had previously held her looked nervously from Tommy to his brother.

  “Blue ain’t goin’ nowhere,” the leader replied.

  Tommy turned his aim on Blue, and that was all it took.

  “I’m goin’! I’m goin’!” Blue squealed as he backed up with his hands raised. “Don’t shoot!” He turned and ran toward the entrance of the farm. “Come on, Mitchell. Let’s get.”

  Em felt Mitchell release her, but before she could experience any relief, she saw the barrel of the pistol he was now aiming at Tommy. “So, what we gonna do, now, brother?”

  Tommy didn’t relinquish his stance or his concentration and moments of stressful silence ticked by.

  Em clutched her shirt together. She was aware of the sound of her own breathing. She was afraid to move for the powder keg she’d possibly ignite. If it went the wrong way—

  “I’ll tell you one goddamn thing,” Mitchell finally said as he lowered his gun and backed away. “Someone is gonna have hell to pay for this. You want to guess who?”

  Em didn’t move as Mitchell stalked off. Tommy turned to watch him go, but he didn’t relax his stance or his aim until both men were completely out of sight.

  Em’s intention was to run into the house, but as soon as she tried to move, her knees buckled and she collapsed. Hot tears streamed down her face. What was it with men, she wanted to scream. She’d had it with being abused and manhandled. She’d had it! She couldn’t take it anymore.

  Tommy was suddenly there, kneeling beside her. “I’ll help you.”

  She shook her head and refused to look at him. His brother had ripped her shirt open and she’d stood there exposed before all of them. His brother had touched her. That filthy swine had touched her and she felt soiled all over again. She was soiled. Why did men think they could ravage her anytime they wanted? It didn’t happen to other women. It was her. There was something wrong
with her.

  “Miss Wright—”

  Something in his tone penetrated and she finally looked at him. What she saw was decency and honor. He’d seemed so terribly shy before, but he’d come to her rescue. She’d been intrigued by him and then heard he was slow-witted. She didn’t know exactly who or what he was, except for noble.

  Tommy glanced back to make sure Mitchell and Blue weren’t sneaking back and then he set down his gun and picked her up. “I won’t let them hurt you,” he pledged as he started toward the house.

  She’d never been carried in a man’s arms before. She’d been dragged. She’d been tossed over a shoulder. Always in an effort to get her someplace she didn’t want to go. What a strange thing it was to be physically aided. To be rescued. Somehow, it made her feel more vulnerable than she’d ever felt before. Which made no sense.

  Tommy set her down on the front porch and she felt herself sway, but he kept his hands on her arms and his blue-eyed gaze on her face until she was steady, and then he let go, drawing his hands back slowly. She opened her mouth to thank him, but the words were stymied by crushing emotion. Embarrassed, knowing the tears would not stop for some time to come, she turned and went inside.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Em jerked, hit her head against the wall, and came fully awake. For a moment, she was confused and disoriented by the fact she was sitting hunched in a corner of the parlor with a rifle across her lap, but then the night’s events rushed back at her, leaving her shaken all over again. She set the gun aside and drew her knees up to her chest and hugged them. If Tommy Medlin hadn’t shown up—

  She hadn’t thanked him. He’d saved her, and she hadn’t even thanked him. Slowly, using the wall for support, she got to her feet. She was stiff and sore all over and still wearing the torn clothing from yesterday. It was time to admit that she couldn’t do this. She couldn’t make the farm work. Not alone. Not without Ben. She was too inept. Too helpless against vicious predators.

  She picked up the gun and started to the kitchen, recalling Tommy’s pledge the evening before. She halted and looked at the door, then started forward again. She unlocked and opened the door, and the cold, early morning air hit her squarely in the face. So did the sight of Tommy in the rocking chair, dozing, his shotgun still clutched in his hand. Guilt and gratitude swept over her, and she ducked back inside and went about the task of making herself presentable.

  “Mr. Medlin?”

  Tommy’s eyes opened. He drew in a sharp breath and sat up.

  “You stayed,” she said. “I . . . didn’t know you were doing that.”

  He got to his feet, unsure of what to say.

  “It’s so cold out here,” she continued. “I’m sorry.”

  “You got no reason to be sorry,” he assured her. “But I should be getting on.” He tipped his hat to her and started off.

  “Wait, please. I . . . I wish you’d have some breakfast. It’s the least I can do.”

  He looked away from her, uncomfortable at the idea but not sure how to extricate himself.

  “Please?”

  He nodded. She went inside and he set his gun down and followed, feeling like a fish out of water. She was probably scared to be alone, which would make sense. So, he’d explain that Mitchell and Blue had to report to work, just like he did, and that she wasn’t in any danger until evening. And then he’d come watch over the place again. But how should he say it? He was pondering that as he took off his hat and coat and hung them on the rack.

  “Have a seat,” she offered. “Please. Do you drink coffee?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He rubbed his hands together to warm them as he went toward the table. He pulled back a chair and sat, noticing the pretty rag rugs on the polished floor. There was a lace tablecloth on the table, a fancy, cast iron stove and a corner, glass front cupboard full of glassware and dishes. He didn’t belong in a home like this. He didn’t belong at a table with Emeline Wright. She brought him a cup of coffee and a filled plate, because she’d already done the cooking. He watched as she went back to fill her plate, but looked away again before she caught him staring. He added sugar to his coffee and stirred.

  “Was that really your brother?” she asked.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She walked back to the table and sat across from him. “You couldn’t be more different, could you?”

  She hadn’t picked up her fork so he hesitated, too. “I guess.”

  “Eat. Please.”

  He nodded and went to it, hoping she’d do the same. Instead, she picked up her coffee and sipped. “It’s good,” he said. “Thank you.”

  She finally picked up her fork and took a bite, which made it a little less awkward for him to eat. He didn’t want to say so, but he had to go. He was already going to be late.

  “What will happen with your brother?”

  “I’ll watch him. Or I’ll come here if I lose sight of him again. Make sure he—”

  “I meant with you,” she said, stammering slightly. “Will he try to get back at you?”

  He blinked in surprise at the concern on her face. “I can take care of myself,” he stated simply. “I had five brothers.”

  “Five? Oh, my. I never had any brothers or sisters.”

  He took another forkful of scrambled eggs. “That’s lucky.”

  “I never thought so,” she replied, “but I guess it depends on who they are.”

  He didn’t reply.

  “Do you have any sisters?” she asked a moment later.

  “No, ma’am.”

  “That’s too bad. You would have been a wonderful brother for a girl. Protective.”

  Brother. He kept eating and he kept his gaze fixed on his plate.

  “Are you the youngest?”

  “No, ma’am. Mitchell’s the youngest. Three of my brothers are dead now.”

  She frowned in confusion. “I’m sorry.”

  He set his fork on his plate, having finished. “Can I wash this?”

  “No, I’ll do it.”

  “I’ve got to report to work,” he said apologetically.

  She blushed. “Of course. Please don’t let me keep you.”

  He stood. “Thank you for breakfast. It was real good.”

  Em rose and smoothed the front of her skirt. “I don’t know how to thank you for what you did.”

  He nodded toward her shotgun, which was propped near the door. “You know how to use that?”

  She glanced at it, too, and then looked at him quizzically. “Pull the trigger?”

  For a split second, he grew anxious; then he saw she was teasing. Slowly, he gave in to a smile.

  “I know how to use it,” she assured him. “They just caught me by surprise.”

  Tommy’s smile dimmed. “They’re good at that.” She paled right before his eyes and he felt terrible.

  “You’re right,” she murmured. “They can just . . . anyone could just—”

  He’d said something wrong, but he didn’t know what exactly.

  She sat back down and shook her head. “I can’t do this.”

  “You can’t do what?”

  She looked at him. “Run this farm.” She shook her head in wonderment. “I’ve been so stubborn, thinking if I just keep working . . . if I work hard enough . . . But I don’t have enough money and Ben’s gone and I . . . I don’t know what I was thinking. I can’t do this. How can I run this place when I can’t even protect myself?”

  “You could maybe get a loan,” he said hesitantly.

  She laughed. “Have you ever heard of a bank giving a woman a loan to get a farm up and running again? It doesn’t matter, anyway. It’s not just the money.” She took a breath and stood again. “Thank you again for what you did. I am more grateful than I can say.”

  Had he been wrong to mention a loan? Money was a personal issue to a lot of people. “You’re welcome, ma’am.”

  “Em, please,” she said. “It’s Emeline.”

  The thrill that passed through him was alm
ost painful. He nodded and walked to the coatrack for his coat and hat.

  “Mr. Medlin?”

  He turned back to her. “Tommy.”

  “Tommy,” she repeated quietly. “Should we tell anyone about what happened?”

  He shook his head because telling would only get Mitchell in a lot of trouble and make him even madder, when there was still a chance he could talk some reason into him. “No.”

  “You’ll be careful?”

  It was strange and funny that she was worried about him. It was backwards, but it felt good, too. “I’ll be fine. I’ll keep an eye on them.”

  She nodded, and he left, astounded that he’d just shared a meal with Emeline Wright. Not that anyone would believe it if he told them—which he was definitely not going to do. He pulled on his hat, blew out a slow breath and walked to his horse.

  Em sat back down, feeling painfully alone. She’d always either been told where she would go and what she would do, or else she’d had a plan. But not now. What was she supposed to do now?

  Tommy Medlin was a puzzle. He was strong enough to stand up to his brother and protect her and yet so shy and reticent. He’d made her realize one thing, though; she could not continue as she had been. She couldn’t live with a gun in her hand, nor did she have eyes in the back of her head. She had to sleep and work. If a man wanted to, he could sneak up on her again and she would have no real chance of defending herself. It was time to face facts. She thought of Ben and her eyes filled, knowing that she’d be disappointing him again.

  The rule at the Triple H was, if you reported late for work, you worked double the time you’d missed when the workday ended. Tommy was almost an hour late. He didn’t mind working the extra time, but if he did, he wouldn’t be able to make sure Mitchell and Blue stayed away from Em. It was a dilemma he hadn’t quite worked out when he reported to the foreman. “Go see Mr. H,” Sam Blake told him.