Jenny fought the demon pricking her mind with memory. She longed to cry out but buried the sound instead. “Ben,” she whispered, “I need to go back and get my daddy’s gun. I left it behind.” Her voice was soft, but held a flinty edge.
“Jenny, you don’t need to do anythin’. I’ll finish it this time.”
“No!”
“Jenny, I saw Robby. He’s safe with Mac. I told that boy of yours I’d make sure nothin’ happened to you. I never broke a promise to him before.”
“Give me your rifle, Ben,” she said in a deadened voice. “If you won’t let me get the gun, then give me yours. I need bullets too. I won’t have enough to kill them otherwise.”
He started toward her and stopped. She was crying. Not sobs, but silent tears. Their moves came together. She grabbed for the rifle and he grabbed for her. Wild with her rage, she twisted away from him, but he pulled the rifle free.
“Easy, Jenny. I ain’t gonna hurt you. This is Ben, honey. You ain’t gonna go after them.” It tore him to see her backing away with terror-stricken eyes, reminding him suddenly of the animals he trapped. Dropping the rifle, he held out his hand. “Come back to the fire, Jenny. Come sit and talk to me. I won’t hurt you. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
Her answer was to back away yet again. He caught the almost frantic grab she made to the empty sheath at her side, so he tried coaxing her. He wasn’t even sure she heard him. But Ben was first a hunter, and as much as it hurt him to use those skills on Jenny, he had no choice.
Ben rarely raised his fist to anyone, and never to a woman. But now he was thinking and reacting to the growing hysteria that had Jenny circling the fire, always edging away from him. He removed his bearskin jacket slowly, holding it by his fingertips, swaying it gently. Her eyes widened, becoming near black in color, and she darted them at him as he continued moving the great furry doth. He would need a few seconds, he figured, closing in on her again and yet again. Her eyes, he noted, were following the jacket more than him.
With a toss he sent it flying at her and she darted to her left. His fist shot out, catching her on her jaw. She buckled to the ground just as he caught her.
“Honey, I’m sorry. I had to do it, Jenny. Please understand. I had to.” His voice rasped with tears as he begged her; then dropped to his knees and cradled her in his arms. Her head fell back and he shut his eyes at the sight of the bruises on her neck. His tears fell and salted her skin as he tenderly brought her head to his chest and slowly rocked her.
And that’s where Charmas Kilkenny found them.
Chapter Twenty-One
Ben was crying when he glanced up at the man looming over them. He couldn’t see the man’s face for his hat was pulled low enough to darken his features. But Ben made no effort to hide his rage that brought tears. “Did you see? Did you see what they done to her?” he cried out, holding Jenny’s body away from him slightly so the stranger could see her.
For a man who, at the age of ten, had held his mother and watched her die, Charmas felt time slip away. He had lived with death for so damn many years. He had forced himself to walk away from the father he loved and the young stepbrother that worshiped him because the young woman they called wife and mother desired him. His shame brought a sickness to his soul that had taken too many years to lose. In the moments he forced his eyes to see Jenny, it came rushing back.
Wordlessly he dropped to his knees. He met Ben’s fierce gaze, which locked with his. His arms reached out and silently asked for her. It was a long time before Ben released her limp body to the man who wanted her.
Charmas held her very gently against his chest, then carefully, so afraid of hurting her, he buried his face against her shoulder. His eyes burned and his throat closed. And he remained that way for a long time.
Ben’s hand on his shoulder startled him. He raised his head.
“Bring her over here. I got the fire high and there’s whiskey. I’d guess you saw the fire from wherever you were.” Ben’s gaze slid away from the suspicious shine in Charmas’s eyes that proved he wasn’t the only one moved to let his rage loose. He softly added, “Ain’t seen nothin’ like that.”
Charmas came to his feet unsteadily. Jenny felt so small in his arms. He came to the fire and thought about laying her on the blankets Ben had spread, but he couldn’t let her go. Easing himself down, he held her still, but she stirred in his arms when Ben placed a cold cloth against the swell of her jaw.
“I had to do that to her,” he gruffly explained. “She got wild when I tried goin’ near her. Jenny ain’t never been scared of me ‘fore.”
“She had reason,” was all Charmas offered, a tremor in his voice.
Holding a bottle of whiskey, Ben said, “Best get some inside her.” When Charmas didn’t move, his voice firmed. “Make her drink it now.” The younger man didn’t seem to hear him, but his gaze held a feral light, and when Charmas looked up fully Ben drew back. There was death, staring right at him.
“Jonas did this to her.”
It wasn’t a question, yet Ben nodded. He decided he needed the whiskey and took a few healthy gulps. Staring at the bottle he held at arm’s length, he saw his hand shaking. He slugged down another belt.
Jenny moaned then. She stirred against the arms that held her. Her body ached with pain.
“Let me go,” she whimpered. “I don’t want you to touch me.”
“Hush.” Without thinking, his arms tightened. “I won’t hurt you, Jen.” He stroked her head and thought of the blackness in her eyes. He squeezed his own eyes shut, willing his mind to dose out the sight of them. “Be still. I haven’t come to hurt you.”
Ben came again, with the whiskey, and this time Charmas let him force her to drink it. Jenny couldn’t put up much of a struggle now. Charmas touched her cheek and slid his fingers gently over the curve of her chin. She flinched when he touched the bruise there and dosed her eyes. And his pain drove deep, deep inside him. He listened to Ben’s talk of Robby and Mac all the while he held her. Charmas was aware that Ben asked no questions of him. His jaw clenched, thinking he would stop at nothing for what they’d done to Jenny. And it was some time before they realized she was looking at both of them.
“I don’t want you to touch me,” she whispered from between clenched teeth. Why was he being so hateful? Didn’t he see her pain? Was he blind to what had happened to her?
“Don’t be so strong, Jen,” Charmas begged. “Not now. Need me, please, this once, just need me. Let my life be more than broken dreams. You’re all I want, Jen, all the promise of love I cling to.”
Ben turned away then. He didn’t stop to think of Jenny crying for him to come back. He left them. He dosed his ears and mind to Charmas’s desperate pleas for it brought searing pain to him. Stumbling into the woods until he was far enough away that he could no longer hear or see them, he fell to his knees, crawling to the trunk of a tree, and beat his fists against the ground.
Charmas wouldn’t stop pleading and wouldn’t let her go. Jenny ran inside her mind down into a blackened void that refused to hear him. And he pursued her till his voice was all she heard. He held her so tight she thought she was becoming a part of him. Holding her on his lap, he rocked her like a child who needed to be soothed, and she longed to go back in time, never to return. Need him? He kept saying that. He wanted her to need him. And then she cried. His need made her hurt. She wanted no more of it. But still he asked for more. His lips were warm against her skin, murmuring the same words over and over. His voice grew hoarse and she felt the tender patience in his hand caressing her shorn locks. In a broken voice, he whispered his rage for the loss of her hair, but he asked for nothing more. And slowly she eased her body into his because of that. Jenny had no more to give him.
She shut out the torment of his words as she had shut the horrors of the day off into a tightly sealed place that no one would ever know. And with strength she didn’t know she possessed, she shoved against him, once
again demanding to be free of him.
“No … I need to hold you, Jen.”
Rage and anger and hate and despair seemed to well in a tide till they pooled together. “You need me?” she screamed. “I have needs, too. I need to be away from you.”
Slowly, he lifted his head and looked at her. “Jen, don’t do this.”
“Let me go,” she repeated in a deadened voice. “I can’t stand you touching me.”
His protest died. There was nothing for him in her eyes, which stared somehow beyond him while looking directly at him. Very carefully he released her, one hand slipping reluctantly from her shoulder, and she scrambled toward the fire.
For a long time she sat watching the flames, motionless, and Charmas leaned back, despairing of finding words to reach her, knowing it wasn’t his but any man’s hands she didn’t want. He heard Ben return, saw him grin as he motioned toward Jenny. She was asleep, covered with Ben’s bearskin jacket, and Charmas came to stand over her.
“The whiskey did it. She ain’t gonna go anywhere with all I forced her to drink,” Ben whispered. “She needs sleep more’n anythin’ and you and me need to talk. Reckon we ain’t got but two hours afore sunup. Ain’t all that much time. Figure it’s best if I ride down to the cabins,” he continued thoughtfully. “Jonas ain’t gonna think much ‘bout me cornin’ there. You set yourself on the ridge and pick them off one by one after that.”
Charmas narrowed his eyes. There was something in the way Ben watched him that made the short hairs on his neck stand up. He couldn’t quite figure what it was, but he had lived by trusting his gut feelings in too many other situations not to trust it now. Ben bore watching, too.
“Well, sound good? Or you figure somethin’ better?”
“I figure on killing Jonas, Ben. I gave my word that I would avenge the deaths they caused.”
“You figured it wrong,” he returned with a certainty that made Charmas snap his head around. “Not him. You heard me an’ I ain’t gonna argue with you. Jenny ain’t gonna know that you killed him. She’ll never come ‘round if it’s you. Trust me, Charmas,” he said gruffly. “I know her and know how she figures. This is gonna be a bad time for her. She’ll need you. Don’t let killing Jonas stand between you.”
“I’ll think on it.”
“Pigheaded jus’ like her, ain’t you?” Ben remarked, but this time he grinned. Standing, he brushed off his pants and came around to where Charmas stood. “We’d best be movin’ out after I build up the fire some. Figure snow afore the day’s out.”
Charmas raised his head to look up at the night sky. The stars had begun that slow fade that marked the passage of night. The sky was not as black as it had been and—
Blackness overtook Charmas’s thoughts.
Ben stared down at the crumpled body. “Sure hated doin’ that to him.” Minutes later, having tied Charmas up, he covered the two of them with another blanket. He stacked the wood high. They would be warm for a few hours, he decided, looking back once more before leaving the clearing. He’d only need a few hours. Of course, Charmas was gonna be madder than a rattler when he woke up. Ben really hated slugging him, but there was no other way. The man would be thinkin’ to talk, and when talkin’ wouldn’t get him his way, he’d be doin’ just what Ben had done to him. With his rifle set easy in his hand, Ben loped into the woods, hoping his guilt over what happened to Jenny would make him strong. He’d never killed a man before.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Ben was on his third cup of coffee when he heard the scrape of boots on stone. He eased his rifle from his lap and carefully laid it across the table so that the barrel faced the door. He heard the light squeak of the pulley at the well, and he sipped again at the fresh cup of coffee before him. Eyes never leaving the door, his sharp ears picked up the sound of a man’s softly slurred voice cursing and then came the sound of water splashing. It seemed his hidden supply of liquor hadn’t remained that way. That was good, he thought, nodding slowly. He closed his eyes a moment and took a deep breath, savoring the wood smoke aroma from the fire. One of them would come into the cabin soon. He hoped it was Jonas.
He wasn’t to be disappointed.
The door slammed open and there he was. With one hand he steadied himself against the door frame and Ben could see him peering into the cabin trying to focus his gaze. A quick look showed he hadn’t changed any. The damp hair told him it was Jonas he had heard at the well. His rumpled shirt hung open; his chest was furrowed with deep scarlet scratches. He wasn’t wearing a gun.
“C’mon in, Jonas. I got hot coffee waitin’.”
“That you, Ben?” Jonas asked, shaking his head, making no move to come closer. “Where the hell is Jenny?”
Ben’s teeth clenched. Jonas repeated his questions, trying to clear his cobwebbed thoughts. Why was Ben here? He didn’t realize he asked it aloud.
“Well, I’ll get ‘round to that. But I ain’t seen Jenny,” Ben said in his soft gruff voice. “Left my mules up the mountain, ‘cause I forgot to tend to somethin’ here. You come in, Jonas. Set down and have some coffee and talk with me a spell.”
In his liquor-fogged mind a tiny warning flared, but Jonas didn’t know what it was for or why it should come now. Ben was here and Jenny wasn’t. That was all he knew.
“Here, Jonas,” Ben said, pushing a cup toward him, “drink the coffee.” He filled his own cup to the rim and sat down again across from him. “So, what’s been goin’ on, Jonas?”
“She took Robby away from here,” Jonas said suddenly, still staring down at the steaming cup.
“Did she now? I wonder why Jenny would be doin’ somethin’ like that. You wouldn’t be knowin’, would you, Jonas?”
“She hates me,” he spat out, still not looking up. He felt no fear; after all, hadn’t Ben patched him up and let him live when Jenny tried to kill him? He had nothing to fear from Ben. Ben had learned to keep his nose out of a man’s private business.
It was several more minutes before Ben could force himself to speak again. He had to remind himself to keep calm. “What did you do to her, Jonas?” He hadn’t meant to ask. It was against his better judgment. He didn’t think he’d be able to stop himself from tearing Jonas apart with his bare hands if he answered.
“I don’t know,” he mumbled, lifting the cup to drain it. He set it back on the scarred table, blinking his eyes and glancing around the cabin. “I don’t remember what the hell happened. I was drunk,” he added softly.
“Why did you come back here, Jonas? I thought I warned you to stay away from her two years ago.”
“What the hell right did you have to tell me to stay away from my son?” he demanded, gripping his head to still the relentless pounding.
“Robby is your son, Jonas. I ain’t never said he wasn’t. But you forget Jenny’s your wife. You’ve forgotten that too many times, Jonas.”
The warning sounded through liquor-induced fog. Jonas repeated Ben’s words to himself. There wasn’t anything threatening in them, yet there was, in the very softness of his deep voice, all the warning in the world. His hand shot out across the table, grabbing Ben’s shirt in his fist, leaning over the table. “Where the hell is she? Tell me, old man! Where is Jenny?” He stared down at the grizzly, whiskered face with eyes of slate that held his own. He saw no mercy within their depths. He tightened his grip, dragging Ben’s face closer, and felt the cool steel of the rifle barrel caress his bared throat.
“Sit down, Jonas. I ain’t ready to use it.”
Jonas released him and sat down, looking slightly dazed. Ben leveled the rifle at him with one hand. Jonas swallowed repeatedly. “That’s better.” Ben’s smile never reached his eyes. “I figured you for a bastard, Jonas Latham. But being Robby’s pa and being as how you married Jenny, I thought I could forget that. I figured, too, that you would stay away from her, that you were smart. I guessed wrong all the way ‘round. I should’ve killed you long ago. I want you to understand w
hy I’m thinkin’ to do it now.” Ben didn’t expect him to answer and he didn’t. “Have some more coffee, Jonas. I want to hear why you came back. You’re gonna sit there and tell me who these other men are, and you’re gonna do it knowin’ that when you’re done I’m gonna kill you.”
“Yeah, you think so, Ben?” he taunted with a show of bravado. “You forget there’s three more down at your place? You shoot me,” he went on, gaining courage, “an’ you’ll have a hell of a time getting out alive.”
“I know that. I figured all the odds afore I come for you, Jonas.”
“You’re a crazy bastard, Ben!”
“Some might say that,” he agreed, grinning. “But then, it ain’t gonna make no never mind to you, Jonas, ‘cause you’re gonna be dead.” Ben sat back, shifting his weight slightly but never moving the rifle. Sweat broke out on Jonas’s forehead and he smiled seeing it. “Talk,” he ordered, figuring how much time had passed. He didn’t know if the others were awake or how sober any of them might be. He had thought about killing Jonas quietly by using his hunting knife. He deserved to be slit belly on up, the way animals were gutted before skinning, but Ben knew he hadn’t the stomach to touch him. No, if he could kill him, the rifle it was. And he listened.
Charmas woke to a furious throbbing in his head. His eyes wouldn’t open although he willed them to. He felt smothered in warmth. The sound of a groan reached him. It was his own. He tried moving his arms and found he couldn’t. Then it all came rushing back. Ben talking to him and then nothing. Damn that muleheaded old man for his interference! The cramp in his legs when he tried moving again brought him up short. Ben had tied his wrists behind him then tautly strung a length of rawhide before binding his ankles. Not even forcing himself to bend his legs a little would give him enough slack to ease the numbing cramps.
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