Cherished

by Jill Gregory

  Stunned, she stared at him in growing horror. “He coerces them. Isn’t that what you mean? Then you’re saying he’s dishonest,” she cried, her eyes widening as she stared up at the red-haired cowhand.

  “I ain’t got proof of anything—but I will tell you that Breen’s a dangerous man—ruthless as any I’ve seen. If he’s built his whole empire using the kinds of tactics he’s employed right here in Colorado, then he’s not a man to tangle with lightly.” He grimaced, and the toe of his boot scuffed at the dust. “I’ve been askin’ a few questions about him ... and I reckon he heard about it and didn’t take too kindly to my curiosity. It all boils down to the fact that he’s ordered me off the ranch.” He regarded her searchingly. “That doesn’t matter much, but I’m worried about you.” He reached out suddenly and gripped her hands. “Is it true that you’re going to marry him? Mueller let something slip to Shorty McMillen and the story’s spread through the bunkhouse like wildfire.”

  “I am not going to marry him,” Juliana flashed, her jaw tightening. “Though my uncle might think otherwise.”

  Quickly she told Gil about her own suspicions of the arranged marriage, ending with “I will have to make it clear to my uncle that I absolutely won’t go along with his plans. He may try to force me, though. He is my legal guardian.”

  “He’d do somethin’ like that?” Gil asked as she turned away and walked to the edge of the creek. Shaking his head, he followed her.

  “Oh, yes.” There was a bitter look in her eyes. “He’ll no doubt tell me that I owe it to him to do as he wishes, since he has supported me all of my life. He may even threaten to cast me out if I don’t marry John Breen. And in a way he’s right.” Her voice dipped lower. “I do owe Aunt Katharine and Uncle Edward a great deal—they have cared for me since I was a child. But,” Juliana said, turning and gazing back at Gil with a forlorn expression, “I can’t repay them by marrying a man I don’t even like —much less trust. If necessary”—she swallowed, realizing the impact her rebellion could have upon her life from this moment on—“I’ll leave my uncle’s house and his protection and set out on my own. But I can’t agree to be tied to a man I find repugnant.”

  Gil’s heart nearly burst with pity for this lovely, delicate girl who looked so unhappy. Juliana Montgomery deserved to be loved, protected, not thrown out to that snake, Breen, by her greedy, bootlicking uncle. He cast about for something to say that would ease the pain reflected in her face, then remembered what he’d been aiming to tell her all along. Grinning, tilting her face up to his, he cocked an eyebrow at her. “Maybe it’d cheer you to know that I got a handle on those brothers of yours.”

  Her emerald eyes lit with dazzling hope. “Oh, tell me Wade and Tommy are in Colorado,” she begged fervently, clutching his hand.

  Gil was almost too distracted by her touch and closeness to recollect what they’d been talking about, but her radiant face recalled him to the subject at hand. Her brothers. Dang it. He’d give a whole hell of a lot to have her be that interested in his whereabouts and doings. “Easy now,” he drawled after a moment of gazing into those luminous eyes. “I don’t know precisely where they are, but I can tell you this—they’re alive, knee-deep in trouble, and were last seen somewheres in the Arizona Territory.”

  “Where in the Arizona Territory? When? Who saw them?” She fired the questions at him in rapid succession, her eyes wide and searching.

  “Whoa, there.” The lopsided grin split his freckled features. “For a little lady, you’ve sure got a pile of questions. Problem is, Juliana, I’ve only got a few answers. A gambler in Miss Hetty’s Saloon told me he’d run across the Montgomery gang in Tombstone ‘bout two months back. Played poker with ‘em. All of a sudden the boys lit out—it seems there was a posse after ‘em. A little matter of a payroll holdup.”

  A payroll holdup. Juliana bit her lip. She moved away from Gil, farther along the edge of the creek, and stared down into the tumbling water. She had read the newspaper reports, heard Uncle Edward’s condemnations, even told Gil herself that Wade and Tommy were desperadoes, but it hadn’t seemed as real as it did now, with Gil talking to her about a payroll robbery and a posse. Dear heaven, what had happened to them that they had become hardened outlaws, wanted men? She fought down the impulse to cry in despair. If the law and the posses and the bounty hunters like Cole Rawdon couldn’t find them, what chance did she have?

  But I must find them, I shall. It’s more important to me than to anyone else and I’m going to do it.

  “Juliana.” Gil came up behind her and laid a hand tentatively upon her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you ...”

  “You didn’t.”

  He turned her to face him, placing both of his hands upon her shoulders. “I reckon I did.”

  Fighting back her emotions, she shook her head, “It’s not your fault, it’s just that ... Oh, Gil, I’m scared ...”

  Suddenly, John Breen’s voice boomed down from an outcrop of rock behind them. “Why the hell are you still on my property, Keedy?”

  Juliana whirled about, so startled, she nearly fell into the creek. Gil’s hand steadied her and then he, too, swiveled about to glare at the intruder.

  Silhouetted against the sun, John Breen looked like a tall, fierce Viking. A Viking in black shirt, vest, and pants, sporting cowboy boots, with a .45 strapped to his gunbelt, Juliana thought. It was difficult to see his face beneath the wide-brimmed Stetson, but from his voice and the tense way his fists were clenched at his side, she knew he was in no mood for cordiality. Fear trickled into her heart, not for herself but for Gil, who stood very straight and tall beside her.

  “I stopped to talk to Miss Montgomery.” She was amazed at how calm he sounded. Her heart was still thumping wildly. Breen had startled her out of her wits. “Only you’re not my boss anymore, are you, Mister Breen?” Gil went on in his lazy way. “So I reckon it’s no concern of yours what I do.”

  “You’re on my land. That’s my concern. You were warned to leave.”

  “It’s my fault,” Juliana spoke up, raising her voice as she addressed the fair-haired man staring down at them. “I waylaid Gil at the ranch and asked him to meet me here.”

  For a moment Breen frowned but said nothing. Abruptly, he climbed down into the clearing, jumping the last few feet with lithe grace. His face had an angry flush to it; the deep-set eyes were hard and narrow.

  “Why?” he demanded, his gaze scorching her.

  “I overheard you fire him and I ... wanted to talk to him about his plans for the future.” As if it’s any of your business whom I talk to or why. But she didn’t want to antagonize Breen further at this moment when he was staring at Gil as if he could shoot him on the spot.

  “You shouldn’t be out here alone with varmints like this one.” His tone was curt, but whatever anger he felt toward Juliana he was suppressing for the time being. He swung toward Gil, a muscle throbbing in his neck. “Keedy, get out. Now, before I change my mind.”

  “Sure,” Gil drawled, with mocking slowness. “But first I’ll see Miss Montgomery back to the house. I don’t cotton to leaving a lady alone when there’s snakes and coyotes about.” Gil directed an unmistakably meaningful stare at his former employer, a stare Breen had no trouble interpreting as the insult it was.

  “Why, you damned insolent whelp,” Breen swore softly. His face changed, hardening into an ugly mask of wrath. Before Juliana even realized what was happening, Breen’s fist shot out and connected with a sickening blow to Gil’s nose. The force of it sent the cowboy reeling backward against a tree, blood spouting down the front of his blue shirt. John Breen sprang toward him and hit him again, a cruel blow to the stomach. When Gil doubled over, Breen kicked him in the face, then shoved him sideways to the ground.

  Screaming, Juliana flung herself down beside him, but Gil pushed her aside. He stumbled to his feet, dazed and bleeding, but furious enough to keep fighting. John Breen laughed.

  “Too stupid to quit, eh, Keedy?”<
br />
  “Stop it, you’ll kill him,” Juliana cried, trying to get between the two men. “Don’t you dare strike him again ...”

  Gil stumbled around her and started toward Breen with deadly rage in his eyes, but a gunshot thundered out, echoing sharp and clear among the towering rocks above. Gil froze where he stood, inches from John Breen.

  “Don’t touch him, kid,” Bart Mueller called down from the rocks above. His rifle was pointed straight at the red-haired cowboy’s head.

  Beside Mueller stood two other men, guns drawn and at the ready.

  Juliana, pale as ice, sucked in her breath.

  “Last chance, Keedy.” John Breen’s chillingly pleasant tone made Juliana’s flesh crawl. “Clear out now or the boys’ll have to shoot you for trespassing.”

  Gil was gasping for breath. Blood streamed down his face and neck. He wiped at it with his sleeve. “I’m not ... leaving her here alone ... with you,” he rasped out.

  “I’m all right, Gil. Please, don’t worry about me.” Juliana ran to him and gingerly touched his arm, gazing in sickened horror at his bloody, pain-racked face. She was shaking all over, but she managed to keep her voice steady as she swallowed and said in a low tone, “Please, just go—you should see a doctor.”

  He was coughing now, spitting up blood. Juliana was terrified for him—and fearful that if Gil didn’t leave without more trouble, Mueller or one of the others would shoot him. Her glance flew upward to the armed men on the rocks above, then to John Breen’s taut face, and she knew she had to get Gil away quickly. “Please, I’ll be fine,” she rushed on, her fingers gripping his imploringly. “If you stay ... there will just be more trouble and I couldn’t bear that! He won’t hurt me. Please, just go!”

  “If I were you, I’d listen to the lady,” Breen recommended with a cold smile.

  Gil glanced from him to Mueller and his companions, then drew in a painful breath. “You’re sure?” he managed in a low voice to Juliana.

  “Yes, yes. Don’t worry about me. I’m so sorry for all this.”

  “Ain’t no need to be sorry.” Gil tried to grin. “Breen got in a lucky punch,” he grunted. “Surprised me, that’s all.”

  Men and their ridiculous, overbloated sense of pride! Juliana nearly stamped her foot in frustration, but she managed to stay perfectly still as Gil walked slowly to his horse. It hurt her to see him injured and bleeding, and she wanted to strike out at John Breen. But she didn’t move, determined not to do or say anything until Gil was safely away. How he managed to mount she didn’t know, but at last, with a small salute to her, he rode out of the clearing. He didn’t bother to glance at John Breen, waiting patiently with his thumbs hooked in his pockets. When Gil’s slumped figure disappeared down the craggy slope, she let out a long breath.

  Sunshine poured down. The day was still, beautiful, filled with fragile beauty. And ripe with danger. Juliana felt it all around her, throbbing beneath the surface. She faced John Breen in the clearing with no trace of the apprehension she was feeling showing on her face.

  “Do you still need those men for protection?” she inquired softly, but there were daggers in her eyes. She smoothed a wayward curl from her face and met his stare with icy hauteur. “I’ve no gun, Mr. Breen, and I’m sure if we came to blows, you could defeat me.”

  His jaw clenched. Dark rage suffused his face, and for a moment she feared he would indeed strike her, but then the blackness faded from his expression as quickly as it had come, and instead he waved an arm and ordered Mueller and his companions to leave.

  “You sure are something,” he said when they were completely alone in the clearing. The gurgling of the creek sounded loud to Juliana’s ears. “You’ve got more spunk than ten other women put together. When I saw you with Keedy, I wanted to blow that boy’s head off.”

  “Mr. Breen, let me make one thing clear.”

  “No.” He grasped her by the arms and jerked her forward so suddenly that her hat fell off. “Let me make something clear, Juliana. It’s John—not Mr. Breen. It’s going to sound mighty silly for a married woman to call her husband mister.”

  A hawk wheeled overhead, its shrill cry piercing the air in a forlorn call. Juliana envied that hawk its freedom. It could soar away, far, far into the distant treetops on the farthest peaks. She stared at John Breen, wishing at that moment that she was a hawk, or even an ordinary wren or a sparrow. Anything that could spread wings and leave this man and this isolated place behind.

  She chose her words carefully, wary of the intensity she saw glinting in his eyes. Her hair tumbled loose about her small face, and she saw his gaze upon it. His glance shifted to her mouth, staring at its softness. She made her voice as hard and crisp as she could. “If this is a proposal, Mr. Breen, I thank you. However, I must decline your most flattering offer—and request that you escort me back to the ranch house at once.”

  “Decline? Oh, no. You’re speaking out of haste, honey, and that’s not good for either of us. You’re a bit more skittish than I expected, Juliana,” he went on with a short laugh. “I’m not doing this the way I planned—but seeing you with that no-good cowboy made me lose my head. I can’t bear it for another man to look at you, talk to you. This was going to be a slow courtship, but I’m not as good at waiting for things as I used to be. I’ve gotten used to getting what I want—and there’s no doubt about it, honey, I want you.”

  His fingers tightened around her arms. He drew her closer, and smiled down into her outraged face. “Maybe you’re a mite stubborn, Juliana, but I’m willing to overlook it. You’re beautiful, and feisty as hell, and I’m going to have the time of my life taming you.” As she started to struggle frantically against his restraining embrace, Breen pinned her arms behind her, grinning. “I know females. You like to put on airs, and act as if you couldn’t care less about a man, but what you really want is to be chased, caught, and conquered. Well, I’ve caught you—now comes the conquering part. You know as well as I do that deep down, this is what you’ve been wanting me to do,” he murmured, and brought his lips down on hers in a bruising, greedy kiss that forced her head back and robbed her of all her breath.

  Juliana tried to twist her head away, but he held her fast, and his mouth covered hers. Sickening revulsion filled her. She strained to break free but he suppressed her every movement and the kiss seemed to go on forever. His mouth was wet. His mustache scratched her face. The smell of his hair pomade sickened her as she struggled against his restraining arms. When he at last lifted his head, licking his lips at the taste of her, Juliana thought she would go mad with the urge to strike him.

  “Animal! Let me go!” she cried, trembling with rage and frustration, but he appeared not to hear her.

  “I’ve been wanting to do that since the first time I saw you.”

  “If you don’t let me go, I’ll ...”

  “You’ll what?” he mocked, tightening his grip on her to make clear her helplessness. “Honey, I admire your spirit, but you can’t win in a battle against me. You might as well just give in and enjoy it. As soon as you stop indulging these innocent airs of yours, you’re going to make me a damned fine wife. I’ll be the envy of every man this side of the Panhandle.”

  “For the last time, I will not marry you!”

  He kissed the tip of her nose. “You’ll do as your uncle tells you, Juliana, and he’ll do as I tell him. It’s all settled and agreed upon. Now if you don’t hanker to living out West all the time, that’s no problem. I conduct a great deal of business in the East—we can travel to New York, Chicago, Philadelphia, and a number of other cities a good many months of the year. Europe, too. My holdings are expanding all the time. You’re not exactly going to be stuck in Denver for the rest of your life, so don’t trouble your head over that. But Twin Oaks is special to me and that’s where I’ll expect you to raise our son.”

  “You’re loco, Mr. Breen—as they say in these parts,” she spit out, and tried to kick his ankles.

  But to her chagrin he seeme
d unperturbed by her vehemence and immune to her booted feet. “Loco about you, honey,” he said warmly. He was going to kiss her again. She read it in his eyes.

  “I’ve decided the wedding will be Saturday.” Breen shifted his grasp on her, so that with one hand he could stroke the tangled softness of her hair. He lowered his handsome, smugly smiling face toward hers with exquisite slowness. “No need to let any grass grow under our feet. Soon as the ceremony’s done, we can send those relatives of yours packing and get down to the business of a honeymoon.”

  His lips were inches from hers. She felt the tension in his body and sensed the desire consuming him. Something told her he wouldn’t stop with a kiss this time. Sure enough, even as he planted his mouth to hers, his hand groped at her breast. Desperate Juliana pushed against his chest with all her might.

  Even as she did so, she remembered something—something Wade had taught her when she was seven years old. A technique she’d needed when the bullying nine-year-old son of an Independence blacksmith had made her life miserable. A technique that had sent the blacksmith’s boy crashing to the dirt, whimpering like a beaten puppy. A technique so successful, she wondered how she could have forgotten it. It involved a swift, hard lunge of the knee against a particular part of the male body, and she executed it now against John Breen with every ounce of her strength, bringing her knee up with such a vengeance that he yelled in agony. She felt his body quiver with pain and a surge of triumph ran through her.

  Then, gloriously, he released her, and sank down upon the grass. Juliana leapt free and bolted toward her horse.

  Breen was still moaning on the ground when she wheeled Columbine about in the clearing, but she didn’t even spare him a second glance. As she spurred the mare to a gallop and headed away from the creek as fast as Columbine could carry her, she had a momentary feeling of euphoria, but as the scrub brush and wildflowers flashed past, the feeling faded, replaced by somber dread. Everything was happening too swiftly for her. Things were out of control. She had to reason with Uncle Edward quickly, and get them all away from Twin Oaks as soon as possible. When her uncle heard how despicably John Breen had behaved, what he had done to Gil Keedy, and how obsessed he was with marrying her—even against her wishes—surely he would think twice about the arrangements he had made. Juliana trembled as she rode. She knew John Breen wanted her, but it certainly wasn’t because he loved her. The man didn’t even know her. No, John Breen loved the image of her—he wanted her because she was young and pretty and elegant, he wanted her because she was something he would like to possess, to pet and play with, a prize to flaunt before the world.