A Man of the Land (Masterson Family Series Book 2)

by Devine,Carol

  "Zach, please don't make this more difficult for me than it already is."

  The way she avoided his eyes made his chest tighten. "What are you talking about?"

  "I'm leaving."

  "Leaving?"

  "I decided to wait and tell you to your face because I don't want you coming after me or trying to find me. That's all." She rushed past him for the door and out of some fog, he grabbed her arm.

  "What did you say?"

  She looked up at him, pleading with her eyes. "I can't do this," she whispered.

  "Can't do what?" he asked roughly, his grip tightening on her arm. What had she said? Had she actually told him she was leaving?

  She gazed at the hand he had on her arm and her chin came up. "Let go of me," she said in a clear, cool voice.

  "Not until you tell me what the hell is going on."

  Her eyes focused on a point somewhere past his shoulder, her expression remote and faraway. "I'm leaving you."

  The words hit him like a sledgehammer. "Why?" he asked sharply, caught totally off guard. But the moment he asked the question, he knew he wasn't prepared to hear the answer. He loved her. And if she didn't love him, he wasn't sure how he would bear it. She meant that much to him now.

  "I--"

  "Wait," he interrupted. "Sit down." He pulled out a kitchen chair and plunked her down into it, none too gently, but his mind was working furiously, casting about for something awful he may have said or done. "I love you, Sarah, and I don't care if I have to marry you tomorrow to prove it, or drive around in a trailer with you to the ends of the earth or carry you upstairs and lock myself in a room with you for the rest of my life, but whatever this is, whatever has gotten to you, I know we can fix it if we face it together."

  She sat like a statue, unmoved. He lowered himself in the chair next to hers and took her limp hand, fear sending his heart racing. Steeling himself for whatever might come next, he forced her to look at him. "Tell me why, Sarah."

  "I don't want to be with you anymore."

  He might have been less convinced if her voice had been as dull and listless as her hand. But it was alive with feeling and her eyes glittered with a passion he'd come to associate with their lovemaking. She was serious. Something essential withered inside of him. He wondered for a split second if he'd entirely misjudged her from the very beginning. "You don't know what you're saying."

  "Yes, I do. I know exactly what I'm saying. I'm saying goodbye. And I don't want you to think about me ever again."

  He felt the sting of tears. "Sarah, don't do this to us."

  "There is no us, Zach."

  "No us? No us!" He jumped up and raked his hands through his hair. "What have we been doing in that bedroom upstairs for the past week if there is no us?"

  "It was a dream. A foolish dream."

  He lifted her bodily, hands on her upper arms. "Not a dream, Sarah. And not foolish, either. What exists between us is the most real thing I have ever experienced. And I know it's the same for you. You couldn't respond to me in the way that you do unless you felt it, too. I know we haven't had a chance to tell each other how much we care… how much we love one another but that doesn't mean it's not real. Love is more than words. It's thought and feeling and action and…"

  He jerked her to him and kissed her, unable to think of what else to do. He could offer no better proof. After her first moment of shock when her lips parted instinctively, she pushed and pummeled him with her fists, crying. "No, no, no. You're wrong. Please, just go away and leave me alone."

  She wrenched away and covered her face, crying as if her heart were about to break. Zach had never seen her really cry before. It scared him like nothing else ever had. He didn't understand her. Lord knew, he probably never would but he could see her distress and knew that he, somehow, was the cause. Whatever this thing was, he couldn't fix and he never felt so helpless in his life.

  He kicked a chair out of the way, sending it crashing into the wall. She jumped and backed up, her eyes going from the door to him and back again. She obviously wanted him to go. She had pushed and screamed at him to go. And he was suddenly afraid he would physically hurt her if he didn't go. Right now.

  He banged his way outside, so frustrated and angry he couldn't see straight. He didn't have his coat or his hat and the cold ran through him like an ice storm, freezing him to the bone. Or had Sarah done that?

  Yes, Sarah had done that.

  He took the four stairs off the porch in one leap and strode past the garden, his boot heels ramming the hard ground with every step. He wanted to hit something. Instead he jammed his fists in his pockets and reached deep for a reason, for a thought that made sense. But his stomach churned and his muscles shook with the effort it took to contain himself. This couldn't be happening. How could she want to leave?

  He entered the apple orchard, blinded by the cold and the brightness of the sun. And tears. Tree branches caught his shoulders, his elbows and finally an exposed root tripped him. He went sprawling. Frost-edged leaves cushioned the fall. He pushed himself up and got his legs underneath him but his breath fogged the air and he felt as if his lungs would burst if he took another step. He was dying, dying, and all because of her.

  He caught himself against a tree, remembering the time he had pinned her to one and treated her so brutally. Maybe that's why she wanted to leave. Even with all the ghosts he had faced in the past few weeks, he still wasn't good enough. He was still capable of brutality. Look what he had done to that chair inside. And if he hadn't escaped, he'd been afraid of what he might do to her.

  The truth was, he would never be good enough for her. Just like he'd never been good enough for his father or his mother or anyone else in his life. Only with Sarah had he felt a ray of hope, that maybe, just maybe, he could be loved for himself. He had never met anyone like her. She gave herself completely, holding nothing back. A truer, purer soul never existed. And she never lied, which was why hearing her say she didn't want to be with him anymore was like having acid poured in his ears. Sarah didn't hurt people out of malice or spite. Hell, she'd give her own life to save someone else if it came right down to it. She'd proved it.

  Zach leaned his forehead against the tree trunk. Rough bark bit his skin. He welcomed the pain because it was better than confronting what he felt inside. The wind picked up, whistling through the bare branches, echoing the words in his head.

  She would give her own life.

  Give her own life.

  Her life.

  He went very still.

  Turning, he faced the house. It looked picture perfect, the contrast between white clapboards and black shutters vivid and strong. Everything was neat, the garden, the picket fence, the empty laundry poles. But Zach knew from experience it had looked that way before and looks could be very deceiving.

  He ran.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Zach's worst fears were realized. Halfway back to the house he heard a gunshot. It came from outside the house closer to the barn, somewhere in front, out of his view. He pounded past the garden, cut through the windbreak of cottonwoods between house and barn and spotted Sarah being dragged into the trailer by a large man. The flare of her skirt was the last thing he saw before the door slammed.

  He dashed across the yard, leapt the two steps leading to the door and barreled through.

  They were all in there in the trailer. Sarah, an unconscious Coburn, Butcher… and her stepfather. The strange man holding the shotgun had to be him. Held up by suspenders, his pants were made from the same brown material as her skirt. A simple homespun shirt pulled across the meaty muscles of his chest. Butcher stood rigid at his side, eyeing Zach with malevolence, as though an invisible leash went from the dog's neck to the man's thick wrist. Apparently the months with Sarah hadn't erased the man's control over Butcher.

  Cal put the barrel of the gun next to Coburn's head. "Don't move or I'll blow him away."

  Zach registered the firepower of the Hawk 12 gauge shotgun. The ol
d ranch hand sat slumped on the floor with his back against the wall, bound and gagged, chains wrapped around his hands and feet. His temple was misshapen and bruised a sickly yellow, smeared by blood that had trickled and dried in the weathered lines of his neck.

  Zach put up his hands, nice and easy. "Okay," he said. "I'm not going anywhere."

  Zach's gaze went to Sarah. She stood by the side of the bed behind Cal, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, her wrists bound by a length of rope, the shaking of her head nearly imperceptible as she aimed a warning look at Zach. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears and Zach could tell how sorry she was for the things she had said to him.

  Cal aimed the shotgun at Zach. "We tried to get rid of you but you just didn't want to walk away, did you? Now you get to join our little party. Sit."

  Knowing he'd have to move fast if the opportunity came, Zach perched on the side of the bed closest to Coburn. His years of traveling around the world had taught him how to make a weapon out of anything and the trailer was loaded with possibilities. None of them matched the shotgun in speed or firepower but, along with the element of surprise, he would find a way to take Cal out long enough for Sarah to get out. That's all Zach cared about. That Sarah would have time to get out.

  His mind rattled with what would be most lethal. In the tiny kitchenette, there were knives, forks, Pyrex glass. The windows were shatter proof but harder than any surface except for the stainless steel counter and sink. Drawers could be ripped from the walls. He'd even use the damn bed if he had to. And if he could get hold of that mean-looking chain coiled next to Sarah, it would be hard enough to knock the barrel of the gun, giving him enough time to tackle the man's blocky body. Cal had some thirty pounds on him. Zach knew he was quicker. The key was a sudden diversion.

  Cal glanced at Sarah and jerked his head toward Zach. "Tie him up," he said.

  Sarah reached for the chain. Cal had left only a couple of inches between her wrists, giving her very little room to use her hands or arms. As she came toward him, Zach noticed she moved stiffly as though walking was painful. He glanced down and saw another length of rope tied around her ankles. She wore thick wooden clogs on her feet.

  "Don't try anything, either of you," warned Cal.

  Zach held out his fisted hands, wrists together, and watched Sarah loop the middle of the chain around his wrists. Her fingers were like ice. He kept his eyes averted from her face but moved his knee against her skirt, slightly pressuring her to move sideways. She knelt awkwardly in front of him, ankles bound too tightly to balance properly, the nod of her head subtle, and knotting the chain at his wrists, she pulled the chain past his bent knees to a figure eight around his ankles. Just as she was hooking the lock in place, Zach exploded off the bed, elbowing Sarah behind him.

  Zach swung his chained hands straight at Cal. Cal threw up an arm to block the blow and the gun went off. Glass shattered and Sarah screamed.

  Zach charged, bowling Cal over. The chain tangled around Zach's wrists as they grappled. Zach knew from the weak shakiness in his own arms he'd been shot. "Run, Sarah, run," he yelled.

  "Butcher!" Cal commanded. "Attack!"

  The dog landed on Zach's back, snapping and snarling.

  "Butcher, no!" Sarah screamed.

  Zach felt the dog being jerked off his back. Knowing Sarah had done it, he made one last-ditch effort on his knees and wrenched at the gun. It skittered across the floor, out of reach.

  Sarah jumped for it. Cal blocked her, bellowing his rage. Butcher went into a frenzy of barking. Zach managed to duck the punch Cal aimed at his face. It landed on his shoulder, rolling him sideways on the floor. Cal pivoted and kicked Zach square in the ribs. Pain exploded through his gut.

  Clutching his side with one hand, Zach lunged desperately for the gun with the other but Cal reached down and scooped it up, ready to hit Zach with it.

  "No!" Sarah let go of Butcher and rushed toward Cal. He quickly brought the gun to bear, aiming it at her. She stopped short, teetering in the clumsy clogs.

  Cal turned the gun on Zach. "Lover boy's a dead man now."

  "No! Cal, please!" Sarah dropped to her knees beside Zach and begged, hands clenched together in entreaty.

  Zach curled his body around the searing pain along his left side. He spit out a mouthful of blood. His breath came out in labored heaves. The maniac had not only cracked his ribs, he'd shot him. God only knew what he'd do to Sarah.

  Sarah hobbled to Cal on her knees, pleading with him. He pulled her to her feet by her hair, hooked one arm around her neck and forced her spine up against his chest, dragging her backward. She faced outward, eyes huge and fearful. "Don't worry, I won't kill him, Sarah. I'll let Butcher do it."

  "No!"

  Zach watched helplessly as Sarah raised her bound hands and pushed at Cal's meaty arm. She wasn't able to keep the pressure of his forearm off her throat. Her strength was no match for the man. Butcher barked at her, ears pricked forward.

  Come here, boy," said Cal.

  Butcher, stay," said Sarah, gasping as her throat closed.

  The dog circled in place, clearly confused. Cal shoved Sarah away from him into the opposite corner and said with authority, "Come, Butcher."

  "Stay," Sarah ordered, her voice tremulous.

  Butcher whined, put his belly to the ground and crept to Cal, eyes only for him. Chuckling, Cal jabbed Zach with the barrel of the gun. "Got a better idea. Ain't nothing better than a bullet to the gut to torture a man. Did you know that, Sarah?"

  "Don't hurt him anymore," she cried.

  "It doesn't kill him right away, you see. Oh, no. Just tears right through the intestines. Even today, them medical doctors can't keep him from gettin' infected. It's a slow death. Nice and slow."

  The barrel dug deeper. Zach closed his eyes with the effort it took not to scream.

  "Stop it!" Sarah sobbed. "I'll do anything!"

  "Anything?" Cal asked, his motion arrested.

  "Don't, Sarah," Zach rasped.

  Cal pushed the shotgun into Zach's side. "You shut up, lover boy."

  Sarah protected Zach with her body. "I'll do anything you say, I promise. Only please don't hurt him."

  "Sarah, no."

  "Oh, yes," Cal said. "A mighty interesting proposal. Let me think on it a minute."

  Sarah nodded. "We'll go back to the Community. It will be just like before."

  "Not exactly like before," answered Cal. "Before you were my step-daughter. Now I want you as my wife. We won't be going back to no Community either. That flashlight you found ain't the only bad thing I done. I've been banished. Which means, you ain't gonna have nothin' or nobody 'cept me."

  "Don't hurt Zach or Ty anymore and I'll go wherever you want."

  Zach was losing the ability to breathe. "Sarah…"

  "Swear on God's Word," said Cal.

  Hands still bound, Zach hitched himself up on one elbow. If he kicked his legs, maybe he could sweep the bastard off his feet. "Don't, Sarah."

  "You stop moving and shut your trap!" Cal roared. He grabbed Sarah's arm, using her like a shield. "Or I'll strip her and take her right here!"

  It wrenched Zach to the bottom of his soul to watch Sarah swear on all that was holy to submit unto Cal in all ways. Zach closed his eyes, using every ounce of strength he possessed to drag himself closer to them. Even if he died trying, he wasn't going to let Cal take her.

  "Lookee, Sarah. Lover boy wants to say goodbye. You be sure and let him know you belong to me now."

  Zach opened his eyes to see Sarah kneeling over him. He couldn't even see straight. How could he save her? She cupped his cheek with her bound hands. With his chained hands, he caught her hands, held them. "I'll find you, Sarah."

  She shook her head. "I'll always love only you."

  Cal loomed over them. "Don't say that to him! You belong to me, only me!" Cal put the gun to Sarah's head. "Get away from him."

  Butcher whined and moved out of his corner, nails clicking on the trailer flo
or.

  Cal turned the gun on Butcher. "Stay, you damn dog!"

  Butcher stopped.

  Cal turned the gun back towards Sarah, holding it inches from her face. "Tell Lover boy you don't love him. Look in his eyes and tell him."

  Sarah gripped Zach harder but she didn't move.

  "Tell him!"

  She shook her head mutely, staring at the gun. Zach squeezed her hands. "Tell me, Sarah. He'll kill you if you don't."

  "That's right," Cal echoed. "I'll kill you if you don't."

  "No," she whispered.

  Zach tightened his grip on her hands. "We know what's real, don't we, Sarah? You can tell me. I won't mind."

  Sarah turned to him, seeing his face smeared with blood and ravaged by pain, trying to smile at her. She'd rather give her life than betray what he meant to her, what they meant to each other. She gripped his hands. "Zach, no matter what happens, whether here or in Heaven, you are my one true love."

  "Damn you!" Enraged, Cal put the gun barrel to her head, pushing her backward, off her knees, her backside on the floor. Butcher barked again, the sound louder than ever. Zach focused on the noise, focused on staying conscious, moving arms and legs that could no longer move.

  "Shut up, Butcher!" Cal yelled.

  The barking became frantic.

  Uncaring, Cal prodded Sarah with the gun barrel until she was lying on the floor, her spine flat on the hard surface. He towered over her, the end of the barrel on her forehead. "You want Heaven?" With his free hand, he fumbled with the front of his pants. "I got something better'n heaven."

  Beyond the roaring inside his head, Zach heard a terrible snarling. Out of a red mist, he saw Butcher hurl himself at Cal, snarling and aiming at his throat. The gun went off, ripped away and spinning by the sheer force of Butcher's attack. The bullet exploded through the ceiling, sending dust and debris raining down.

  Gagging, Cal clawed at Butcher, stumbling backwards. The dog clamped his jaws harder, hanging from Cal's throat. Suddenly silenced, Cal fell to the floor, eyes bulging, blood spurting from his neck.

  Sarah kicked the gun aside and crawled to Zach. Sobbing, she worked to undo the chains around his hands. He groped her face, her arms, her body, making sure she was safe. Once freed, he found the strength to hold her against his heart. They clung to each other. She was safe.