Zach remained in the doorway. “I don’t know this area well. I have no idea where they might be, but I can’t just sit and do nothing. Who knows what he might do to her?” His stomach turned at the image of Axel having his way with Odessa. He’d kill him if he so much as harmed a hair on her head.
* * *
“Get down.” The man yanked Odessa from the saddle.
She teetered to retain her balance and avoided eye contact lest he glimpse her recognition of the place. “What is this place? Won’t you please tell me what you want from me?”
“Lady,” he muttered, leading the horses to the pen, “you ask more questions than a nagging wife. That’s why I don’t have one.”
With the animals inside the corral, he closed the gate, walked back to where she waited, and gave her a shove. “Get inside and see if there’s any grub you can rustle up. I’m starvin’.” He pushed open the door.
After fishing in his pocket, he found a match, struck it, and then meandered around the room until he located an oil lamp. Flickering light soon danced off the walls and highlighted the blood puddles dried on the floor beside a table still bearing traces of uneaten food. The stick he held burned too close to his fingers while he studied the room, and a muttered oath escaped him.
He killed the match with a few flicks of his wrist then glanced around the room. “Hmm, someone came and cleaned up the mess we left.” He snickered and scuffed the toe of his boot against a dark stain. “They should have done the dishes and mopped the floor while they were at it.”
A cold shiver ran down her back. Had he just admitted to taking part in the murder of three people? She stood frozen in the doorway, not daring ask for details. The silence begged her to say something. “Isn’t this a way-station?”
“Used to be.” He nodded. “I heard talk in town that Wells Fargo has crossed this place off their list of stopping places. If you’re thinking we’ll be discovered, forget it. This place is as dead as the previous tenants.”
Her stomach fisted into a knot. He’d just killed her hope as easily as he and the “we” he referred to had snuffed out three innocent lives.
“Can you cook?” He cast a raised brow at her.
“Enough to keep from starving. B-but I always like to know the name of the person I’m cooking for.”
“You ain’t gonna give me any peace until I tell you, are you?” He displayed stained teeth in a devious smile. “Axel’s the name. Now come in and shut the door.”
“Well, Mr…Axel.” She inched closer. “Can I also know why I’m forced to endure your company?”
A kitchen chair squealed against the floor when he pulled it out and straddled it. He rested his arms on the spindled back. “That’s not a very nice thing to say. Some ladies might find my company quite pleasing.”
A thousand insults begged to be hurled. His shirt barely met across his big belly, and his hair hung in greasy strands beyond a frayed collar. His pock-marked face and bulbous nose made him the least attractive man she’d ever met, but she wasn’t dumb enough to engage him.
She carried the dirty plates to the counter beneath a small window overlooking the endless desert outside, and then turned. “I only meant to inquire why it was necessary to bring me here. And you mentioned Zach. Can you at least tell me how you know him, and why you seem so angry?”
Axel turned a beady stare on her. “Your beau is a double-crossing, back-stabbing son-of-a-bitch, and I aim to see he pays for cheating me out of my share of the heist.”
She widened her eyes. “You’re part of the gang he joined? I remember you.”
“Was. Because of him and that polecat, T.J., I didn’t get a chance to share in the loot.”
“What do you mean?” She pulled out a chair across from him and perched on the seat’s edge. Her heart thudded.
“They got greedy. Guess they didn’t want to share the wealth. Knocked me out and left me trussed up like a steer at branding time.” His lips thinned. “Reckon they didn’t figure I was smart enough to work my way loose.” He stared at the wall, a smile curling his lips. “But, I’ve got what Zach Johnson wants, and when he comes to rescue you, I’ll get my share of the money and his, too.”
“You don’t mean to kill him, do you?” Her mouth went dry and cottony.
He turned an icy gaze on her. “What I aim to do and what I will do is my business. Now get your pretty little fanny out of that chair and fix me some food.”
Odessa rose and walked back to the counter. She pushed aside material hiding the shelves next to the window and perused the cans there. “There are only beans.”
“Ah, shit. I’m sick to death of ‘em.” He pounded the table.
She jumped at the noise. “I-I’m sorry, but I can’t fix what we don’t have.” She kept her back to him, clutching the counter with whitened knuckles.
“Oh, hell. I guess eatin’ beans is better than starvin’. Go ahead and heat some up.”
Odessa glanced at the cold cook stove, then at the pile of ashes in the fireplace. She swallowed hard. “I will if you start a fire.”
Axel rose and gathered an armful of wood from a basket next to the stove. “You’re a helpless little filly, aren’t ya?” Despite his grumbling, he opened a small, iron door and tossed the wood inside, then added a handful of fodder from another basket. Producing a second match, he struck it against the rough stovetop. “There ya go, now get ta fixin’.”
Plopping into a white rocking chair with wide arms and a floral cushion, he clasped his hands behind his head. “So, lil’ miss…how did you meet your back-stabbin’ beau?”
“I don’t see what difference that makes. She lifted her chin despite struggling to open the can with a chisel, before dumping the contents into a pot.
“I like your spirit. I see you’re scared to death, but you fake being brave real good.”
His words ignited a flame of anger. She spun from the stove. “I’d like to see how you’d handle being snatched from an innocent walk on the street and dragged to a place in the middle of nowhere. I doubt you’d like it much.” Her eyes misted.
“Oh, don’t get all weepy on me. I don’t aim ta hurt ya. It’s Johnson I want.” Axel ran a leering gaze up and down her body. “Although, I hafta admit, I might scratch an itch I’ve got. But that might be something you’ll enjoy.”
Bile rose in her throat. She swallowed the bitter taste and turned back to the stove. The thought of his touch made her cringe. But how could she stop him? She was no match for his strength.
With shaking hands, Odessa carried a steaming bowl, along with a spoon, to the table. “I hope this’ll do.”
Axel moved from the rocker to the kitchen chair. He lowered his nose and sniffed his dinner, then stared up at her. “You gonna join me?”
She shook her head. “I’m not hungry.”
“You soon will be, so you may as well eat now.” He slurped a spoonful of beans into his mouth and winced. “Whew…hot.”
She rolled her eyes. Did he think steam rose from a cold bowl? She held her tongue, still standing and afraid to make a move.
“Fill yerself a bowl and have a seat.” His invitation sounded more like a command. His gaze locked on her bosom, and he licked his lips. “You’ll be needin’ your energy, if you get my drift.”
He lifted the spoon to his mouth, but this time blew a cooling breath on the beans.
As instructed, Odessa returned to the chair across from him. With nerves knotting her stomach, she sat and forced herself to take a bite. Her hand trembled and a bit of juice splattered the checkered tablecloth.
Axel smiled. “See, I know’d you was more scared than you let on.” He took another bite, chewing with his mouth open and ignoring the sauce dripping in his stubbly beard. He paused between spoonfuls. “We’ll need to turn in soon. I haven’t been to bed in a while, and I don’t aim to be sleepin’ when your beau shows up.”
Sickened by his lack of table manners, her gaze wandered the one-room cabin. A rickety bookcase, two
of its three shelves empty, stood next to the large stone fireplace. A tin-type of a stiff-backed couple dressed in their Sunday best hung on one wall, while a wreath of dried wildflowers decorated another. The Bible she’d borrowed to locate the names of the deceased still rested on the small round table between a floral settee and the rocking chair. Between a makeshift wall of gingham curtains, she spied a patchwork-covered bed. Her heart sank.
Axel pushed an empty bowl toward her. “Got any more?”
She nodded, rose, and returned with the last of the beans, but remained standing. “Honestly, I’m not hungry, and eating is making me ill.”
“All right, dump the rest in here.” He motioned to his bowl. “No need wastin’ grub.”
She emptied her portion atop his, then carried her dirty dish to the counter. Reluctant to interrupt him, she turned and dipped her chin. “I’ll need some water to clean up the mess.”
“Reckon’ that’s what the bucket there is for.” He nodded. “I ‘spose I can trust you to fetch some from the pump outside. But don’t try nothin’ funny.”
Was he actually letting her venture out on her own? Had she misheard?
He returned to slurping.
His crudeness sickened her.
“Dang, what I wouldn’t give for a biscuit to sop up this juice,” he mumbled. Then, holding the bowl to his mouth, he drained the last drop.
She crooked her arm through the rope handle, but paused by the open door. Damn the night-time. While daylight might have presented an opportunity for escape, the darkness defied her possible freedom. “Ah,” she winced at asking for help again. “Sorry, but I don’t know where the pump is.”
He lifted the tablecloth, leaned over and swiped the edge across his mouth. “You really are a useless wench, aren’t ya?” He rose and stomped over to her. “Give me that.” He yanked the bucket from her arm.
She rubbed the skin abraded by the crude handle and stepped aside. Any hope of escape dimmed…at least for now. There had to be a way to get away from this crazed man and save herself and Zach.
* * *
Odessa finished putting away the last clean dish and hung the drying towel back on the nail where she found it. She eyed the door. Axel had grumbled something about the outhouse and disappeared outside. He’d been gone for several minutes. She’d considered locking him out, but the sliding bar wouldn’t hold up against a man of Axel’s girth.
Her heart thundering, she scurried about, checking each shelf and drawer for a weapon. She found nothing but a butcher knife. The blade was far too large to stuff in her boot, and she dared not attack him face-to-face. Her mind whirred with ideas.
He’d carried a rifle in a scabbard on his horse, but even if she managed to get to the corral, he’d surely be upon her before she found the gun—or saddled a horse. Doomed to a fate she had little or no control to change, she chewed her bottom lip and blinked back tears.
A headache loomed, and she massaged her brow. What horror lay in store for her next? Her gaze froze on the bed beyond the curtains; her stomach clenched.
Weary and nauseous, she sank into the rocking chair and picked up the Bible. She held little hope that anyone would rescue her from Axel’s lust, but maybe reading a Psalm might give her strength to endure God’s plan. Surely, the Lord had a reason for whatever was about to happen, although she failed to see why his plan called for her continued torture.
Clutching the Good Book to her chest, Odessa let her mind wander to happier, more carefree times. When Pa played his fiddle, and she waltzed around the room the way Mama taught her; the Sundays before the church was built, when Granny read passages from the Bible. How Grandpa, before he passed, sat on the front stoop, his rocking chair moving in a steady rhythm, his pipe stem clenched between the few teeth that remained in his mouth, while a halo of smoke encircled his head. She heaved a loud sigh. Hard to believe they were all gone now.
The door opened and startled her. Axel came in, fastening his pants, his mouth open in a wide yawn. He stretched his hands high over his head and smiled at her. “We best get to bed.”
Her body tensed. “If you don’t mind, I’ll make a pallet on the floor for myself.”
“I do mind.” He closed the door and slid the lock into place. “I’m not givin’ you a chance to hightail it for the corral soon as my eyes are closed. Besides, I’m sure I won’t be the first to bed ya.”
Her mouth gaped. “I-I beg your pardon.”
“Surely you don’t ‘spect me to believe you and Johnson haven’t rutted like a bull and a cow in matin’ season.”
She swallowed her shock. “You’re wrong. We have only shared sleeping out under the same sky, and in a boarding house room. Zach’s nothing but a gentleman.”
“Oh, I’ll be a perfect gentleman, too. Don’t you worry your sweet little self.”
Tears burned the back of her eyes and a voice in her head screamed for her to run. But where?
"Shoot first and never miss."- Bat Masterson
Chapter Twenty Four
Axel grabbed Odessa’s wrist from the rocking chair arm and tugged so hard he nearly yanked her onto the floor. “C’mon, it’s bedtime.”
She stood and shrugged free of his grasp. “I’m not sleeping in the same bed as you, and that’s that!” Maybe showing determination might help. She had nothing to lose.
“Oh, really.” He tilted his head and gave her a smug smile.
“Really!” She crossed her arms, but the quiver in her voice belied her bravery.
Quick as a wink, Axel whisked her over his shoulder, and nudging through the curtains, deposited her in a heap mid-bed. She sank into the feathery down with a gasp. With his arms crossed in a mocking manner, he stared down at her. “Not sleeping in the same bed, eh?”
She scrambled to her feet and faced him with shoulders stiff with anger and fear. The smell of sweat surrounding him overpowered her, but she held her ground. “Maybe you’re used to getting your way because your size allows you to push people around, but I refuse to be bullied.” Her heart pounded so hard she was sure he heard it.
“I like my women feisty.” He grinned and started unbuttoning his shirt.
She backed away, almost toppling the table holding a white pitcher and washbowl. Her throat tightened. She had no clear idea what to expect. Her mother had been remiss in explaining what transpired between a man and a woman in bed together, but through schoolmates and watching animals on the farm, Odessa had a good idea what Axel had in mind. The thought sickened her, his smell, the sight of his matted chest hair and a bare belly that lapped over his buckle stirred her nausea. Thankfully, the lack of lamplight in the curtained area kept her from the full impact of his repulsiveness. Her pulse thundered in her ears.
Zach’s touch, his mere presence, warmed and excited her. His kiss lit a flame only he could ignite. She wanted him to be the one to claim her innocence, not this filthy pig of a man. Her legs leaden, she stood rooted in place. Axel unfastened his pants while his leering gaze traveled over her body. He sat on the bed and removed one boot. “Go ahead, get undressed. I’m hungry for some sugar.”
She mustered up her courage again. “I told you I’m not sharing your bed.”
He straightened and stared up at her. “And I say you are! Either you undress yourself, or I’ll do it for you when I’m finished shuckin’ my own clothes.”
He bent to pull off his other boot.
Panic spun Odessa’s mind in a thousand directions. Hectic, her gaze searched for something—anything—to use against her captor. She recalled the pitcher behind her and without being obvious, reached around and locked her fingers on the handle. Axel, now in his stocking feet, straightened at the same moment she brought the heavy porcelain crashing down on his head. Amidst pieces of shattered glass, he slid to the floor in a crumpled heap.
Blood trickled from a gash on his temple but Odessa felt no remorse. She covered her mouth and swallowed hard. She had to run, and run now. Hiking her skirt and stepping over his limp for
m, she rushed to the front door and slid back the locking bar with trembling hands. She flung open the door and paused when greeted by a night darker than pitch. How would she see to saddle a horse? She wasn’t an expert horsewoman by any means; in fact she hated the big animals. Their wide eyes terrified her.
She had no matches, and the lamp Axel had lit earlier now dimmed for lack of oil. Finding more would take valuable seconds. And how much time did she have before Axel awoke? She glanced over her shoulder and shuddered.
Getting as far away as she could was what she needed to do, and now. Sucking her bottom lip between her teeth, she thought. Maybe doing the unexpected and traveling afoot would throw him off her trail. Or…her breath stalled, perhaps she’d become the prey of some other type of desert scavenger. Visions of glaring yellow eyes reminded her of her previous brush with death. Her legs turned wobbly.
Odessa steeled herself. There was no time to waste, and chancing death was far better than the fate that awaited her with Axel. With a deep breath, she dashed out into the night and headed in the direction of the graves. If she avoided the trail, perhaps she’d have a better chance of evading her horrible captor. As she passed the makeshift markers Zach had erected, she lifted her eyes to the twinkling canopy overhead and prayed for help.
* * *
“Calm down, Zach. We’ll find her. I’ll get a posse together and we’ll fan out and search all the trails leading in and out of town.” Sheriff Brody made no move to rise from his chair. “But we best wait ‘til morning. You’re foolish to think you can track someone at night.”
Zach slammed his fist into the doorjamb. “I can’t wait for sunrise. If I don’t start looking for Odessa now, I’m gonna go stark raving mad.” He squared his hat. “You round up your posse come daylight and start searching, but I’m heading out on the same trail I rode in on.”
Arizona Sky Page 17
