Over the Barrel

by Breanna Hayse

  She scooped up water in her hat to bring to the horse when she heard him sound out a warning nicker followed by pounding hooves. With a frown, she returned to where she had left him.

  "Just what do you think you doing out here, pretty lady? This horse needs to learn some manners. Damn thing tried to bite me."

  Blair watched in stunned silence as the lasso around Skinwalker's neck was tied snugly to a tree, and rope hobbles were placed around his hooves, immobilizing him. A tall, lanky man turned to face her and slowly lifted his rifle and leveled it to her chest. He was about the same age as her grandfather, with dark, foreboding eyes, a gray scraggly beard, and unruly salt-and-pepper hair. Sloan's warning words about drawing her weapon echoed in her mind. This man would shoot her before she had a chance, of that she had no doubt.

  "That is my horse. Please, release him. I was just out riding. Did I trespass?"

  "You're Malcolm's granddaughter, aren't you?"

  "Yes. And you are …?" she asked, as she slowly stood. The man stood between her and the horse, blocking her means of escape.

  "People call me Deuce." He tipped a flask to his lips and then spat upon the ground.

  Blair swallowed dryly. She forced a smile. "You are a friend of Mr. Clay's, aren't you? It is good to meet you."

  "Your charms ain't gonna work here, girlie. Start moving."

  "I don't understand. Did I do something wrong?" Blair asked nervously, walking ahead of him as he nudged his gun into her back with one hand while leading the restless horse by the tight rope.

  "You are just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Tell me what your detective has found out."

  "My detective? Sloan is a ranger. He doesn't tell me anything."

  "Don't you go lying to me, woman. Spill it."

  "Truly, sir! I know nothing other than what my grandfather has told me."

  "So he hasn't said anything about the gold?"

  "What gold?"

  "Girl, you are in the middle of a web too strong to escape from. How's your aunt?"

  "Aunt Imelda? You know her?" Blair sincerely looked surprised.

  "I was engaged to her one day long ago. Yep, she was quite the looker back then."

  "What?! That is impossible. She said she had never had a lover."

  "She certainly did not give herself to me voluntarily, but she grew accustomed to my ways."

  "You raped her?" Blair's face paled.

  "We engaged in adventurous amore," the man chuckled evilly.

  "Sir, that is appalling!" she exclaimed, as he shoved her into a windowless old shack.

  "Yeah, well so was her cunt. Never liked it much. She also had a little problem with nagging, though. It made me feel well, unmanly. Sit your ass in that chair."

  "You said you were engaged. What happened with you two?" Blair asked, wincing as she sat in the straight-backed chair. She bit her lip as he began to tie her hands together. "Why are you tying me? Please, let me pass."

  Deuce ignored her request. "Her best friend appreciated me much, much more than she did. Much, much more," he chuckled, tightening the knot. "Lillian was very appreciative, if you know what I mean. That gal liked it hard and fast, and begged for it every time."

  Lillian? "My grandmother's name was Lillian," Blair whispered hoarsely.

  "It sure was. She got herself with child, too. She wanted me to make things right and marry her, but I don't like to be tied down. Plus, I like my women to struggle a bit, and she was too compliant with my needs."

  "Wait a moment. Are YOU my grandfather?" Blair's mouth hung open in shock.

  "Guess so. Lillian forced Malcolm to wed her. They had a kid, your mother."

  "Dear Lord …" Blair shook her head. "Now things make more sense. Deuce, did you kill my grandmother?"

  Deuce sat down on a chair in front of her. "Might as well tell you the whole story, since you ain't gonna live through the day. Malcolm knew the kid weren't his, but raised her anyway. All his drinking kept him from having his own children, ya know."

  "No, I did not. Please, continue. What happened with my aunt?" Blair asked, trying to erase the words meant to terrify her. She was going to die!

  "Imelda found out. The old bitch was livid. I guess her daddy, your great-grandpa, decided she weren't worth his time and willed all his belongings over to his granddaughter, your mama."

  "But my mother wasn't even of his blood. Did he know that?"

  "Nope. He just wanted to make sure that his greedy wench of a daughter and gambling son didn't touch the goods. Old Malcolm, though—he weren't happy with the outcome."

  "I heard that my grandmother had a significant inheritance. Was that true?"

  "Sure as hell was. Malcolm wanted it something awful, since he couldn't touch the girl's inheritance. The only way to do that was to, well, eliminate Lillian. He got in touch with me, knowing that I would go for a nice piece of coin. Wasn't too hard. She was nothin' but a whore, and it is real easy for me to kill off whores."

  Blair gulped as she surveyed the blank darkness of his eyes. He was insane! "Are you the one who was murdering all those women in the brothels?"

  "Me? Nah that was Clay's doin'. I met up with him in Texas after he had a particularly fun ride with one pretty little southern gal. We shared her the first night," Deuce chuckled. "You hooked up with her husband."

  "Sloan's wife? He was telling the truth?"

  "Don't know what he told you, but that bitch gave both me and Clay the clap. We went south where Clay went out to another whorehouse and was refused because of his disease. He didn't have enough money for the doctor so he went and robbed the bank, and then went back and took care of the whore infestation right then and there. He left the bodies near the injuns to implicate them and throw the Rangers off his trail. He was bragging to me about what he done and we thought it might be good for us both to take care of that Southern whore who made us sick. So we headed back up north."

  "That was when you killed Sloan's wife."

  "Yeah, but this time I tried to get some help for this disease from the injuns. The Chief refused me, so I force-fucked his daughter," Deuce shrugged. "I figured, let him cure her. The damn bitch shot me in the thigh, so I had to cut her throat."

  "And Clay killed the rest of the prostitutes and anyone else who was there?"

  "He sure did. Including a couple of brats." Deuce sounded proud. "We went and dumped their bodies just outside the injun camp. We started up toward Colorado territory then and got hooked up with Blue Sky as cattle drovers. One hell of a ride, too. Both of us were really hurting something awful. Clay got offered job as foreman by Malcolm; that helped us plan our next hit."

  "You robbed the bank to get money for a doctor. Didn't he help you?"

  "Doc said there ain't nothing he could do 'cept stick a hot poker into my cock and push medicine straight through into it. Ain't no one gonna put nothing in my cock." Deuce said, taking out his knife and beginning to sharpen it. "Clay decided that the best way to stop this disease was to kill off the whores who was spreading it."

  Blair frowned. Running the cattle to other towns from Manitou Springs allowed the murderers to have a home base. They were careless, though, because they left a definite pattern that pointed to where they were. No wonder Sloan had identified Manitou and her grandfather's ranch as being the location of the outlaws's hideout! She berated herself for her foolishness. Why didn't she just listen to Sloan and stay out of the way?

  "Don't you think they are going to catch you? You are doing these things right under their noses."

  "You're a smart woman. Shame I'm gonna have to kill you."

  "Deuce, if everything you are telling me is true, that means I am your granddaughter. Why would you kill me?" Blair felt the sweat break out on her forehead as she struggled against the ropes.

  "Whoring is generational. Don't think I don't know how you threw yourself at that lawman! My scouts were watching everything you did."

  "It was my rebellion," Blair said. A rope was loose! "I wante
d to defy everything I had been taught. You are fortunate you did not marry Imelda. She is a cruel, bitter woman who used her anger against me since the day I was placed under her care."

  "Your mother's birth made her that way. I did try to go back once Lillian was married off. I needed the money," Deuce said, drinking heavily from his flask. "She wouldn't have me because I was polluted."

  "Is that the reason? I would think it was because you raped her repeatedly and then betrayed her with her best friend," Blair said, feeling another rope loosen. She blanched as his face darkened. "Regardless, you must have been so hurt with her rejection. Especially since it was not all your doing."

  "She wouldn't listen. She was hard-hearted, even then. Her best friend betrayed her, and she was left to depend upon her father's charity before he died," Deuce said, his speech slurring slightly as the effects of the alcohol took over. He chuckled. "I guess I ruined Imelda for any other man. She could never be satisfied with anyone else like she was with me."

  Blair decided to attempt siding with him, although she knew that when dealing with insanity, she had little hope to turn him to protect her. "What my grandmother did is unforgiveable—to you, Imelda, and Malcolm. But killing me is not going to undo what has happened. We share the same blood, Deuce. I can change. I can learn from the mistakes of those horrid women before me. Please, give me that chance."

  "No can do. Gotta finish what I started." He released a loud groan as his injured leg gave way from under him. He pulled himself into a chair and stretched his legs out, draining his flask.

  "Deuce! Are you in pain?" Blair asked, her hands now free.

  "Gotta drink to make it livable," Deuce said. "You're a nice girl. A sweet, kind girl. I wish I didn't have to kill you. But I can't be letting you make more whores. Them whores, they just bring all kinds of hurt, ya know."

  "I understand," Blair said, eyeing him as he started to doze. "I forgive you."

  "Your aunt … she ain't never gonna forgive me," the man said, as he began to doze. "Could have had a good life …."

  Blair waited anxiously for him to drop into a deep, intoxicated sleep and then let the ropes fall to the ground. Her hands shook as she untied her feet and then silently stood. She picked up her gun from the sideboard where Deuce had tossed it and chewed on her lip as she contemplated attempting to remove the firearms from Deuce's person. She chose to not risk awakening him and slipped outside, making certain to bar the door closed and hopefully prevent him from easily following her.

  The sun was high by the time she found Skinwalker. He had been tied up in a stable, and both front and back legs had been hobbled by someone she had not seen. Blair cut the ropes with her little wood knife that she kept tucked in her boot, hiding under the horse as she listened for telltale signs that Deuce had discovered her absence. She led the agitated horse to the open area, her eyes darting about as she watched for Deuce's accomplices. With no one in direct sight, she climbed a fence and slid onto his back. Leaning forward with her hands gripping his mane, she kicked her heels to his sides.

  Skinwalker flew like the wind. Blair yelped as the sound of gunshots followed her escape. The pounding of hooves against hard ground drowned out the series of gunshots as her captors pursued her. "Please get me home, Skinwalker. Get me to Sloan," she begged as the horse zigzagged and jumped over fallen trees, quickly outdistancing her hunters. "Dear God, please don't let him step in a gopher hole and kill us both," she prayed aloud as Skinwalker sped in the direction of the ranch. Blair cringed as she realized that she had not sought solace from her faith since her parents had died. She made silent promises to be obedient and mindful of her safety, repenting of her 'sins' and sending solemn oaths to the heavens concerning improvement of her behavior. As she rode up to the house, she dismounted the animal with the final promise of forgiving Sloan and allowing him another chance, should he desire it.

  The animal was frothing and covered with a heavy layer of sweat by the time they skidded to a halt at the front porch. Blair jumped off his back and raced inside.

  "My, my, looky at what the cat dragged in," Malcolm said, with a smile. "I hear you went on a little adventure, granddaughter."

  Blair froze. Sloan and Madeline were both gagged and tied back to back. Sloan had a deep gash on his forehead that was still fresh with blood and his left cheek was badly bruised. Malcolm sat in his overstuffed chair and sipped upon a glass of whiskey while fingering Sloan's gun.

  "Grandfather! What is this about?" Blair asked, leveling her gun at his chest.

  "Put the toy away, child. The game has come to an end. I was hoping we could do this nice and peaceful-like, you know, make it look like an accident, but I guess not. Have a seat, dear."

  "No! I demand to know what is happening!"

  "I said," Malcolm's voice changed to a sinister tone. He pulled back on the hammer and held the gun to Sloan's head, "have a seat, Blair. Put the gun down."

  Blair trembled. She placed her gun on a table and slowly lowered herself to sit upon the lounge chair. Her eyes never left the gun that was pointed at Sloan's head. With a satisfied smile, Malcolm disengaged the hammer.

  "Good girl. I want it all, you see," Malcolm smiled. "Not just this ranch, which would fall back into my hands once you and your husband met an untimely demise, but Farbor Mansion as well. With you signing it over to me in exchange for the ranch, it would have been mine."

  "Did you really find gold here?" Blair asked, with a quaking voice.

  "Lots of it, my girl. Enough to hire some people to protect my assets. Unfortunately," he sipped his drink, "the ones who kidnapped you were too stupid to take care of things. They were supposed to tie you to the back of your horse, Comanche style, and send you over a cliff. Fools."

  "Why do you hate me so much? I know the truth about my grandmother. Your friend, Deuce, told me the whole story. You raised my mother as your own child. Why hate me?"

  "Janie was her mother's daughter. Whored herself out as soon as she had the chance. She didn't want to stay with me. She chose, instead, to follow your father to the missionary field and got herself killed."

  "She contracted consumption while helping others. She was a good person, Grandfather. You raised her to be a loving and caring woman." Blair tried not to watch Sloan as he struggled to untie his ropes.

  "She turned into a whore like her mother. She never loved me. Neither of them did."

  "You could have had all of this without murdering anyone, Grandfather. I would have given over everything, just to have had someone to love me," Blair said, her eyes brimming.

  "You look so much like your mother," Malcolm sighed. "I used to fall victim to her tears as well. No more. Gentlemen! Please, come inside."

  Blair gulped as her two pursuers entered the house.

  "Nice to see you again, Miss Blair," one man said.

  Blair squinted. His face was covered with ugly scars. Could it be? The kidnapper! "Old Joe? I thought you were arrested. Where are your friends?"

  He grinned evilly. "They didn't make it out of the jail. Both accidentally hung themselves. Do you see what this girl did to me, Malcolm? Hornet nest."

  "She is a clever one," another man—the one from Manitou Springs who had given her the information about Deuce, said. Blair felt like a total fool, having fallen into the trap. "Managed to escape Deuce. He's on his way."

  "Where's Clay?"

  "Trying to rally that horse. Beast already took down one of the boys with a hoof after biting a chunk out of his neck. Sure we can't just shoot it?"

  "Nah, we are gonna make sure the girl is trampled to death. Don't want the law coming after us, do we?"

  "What law?" A third man wearing a sheriff's badge entered the house. "Did I hear someone call for a lawman?"

  "Who are you?" Blair asked, narrowing her eyes.

  "Sloan knows me. We are old friends, aren't we buddy? Take off his gag."

  "He used to be sheriff in the town where I lived," Sloan growled. "He was helping me investigate my la
te wife's murder. He was on the trail the day I brought your kidnappers to justice."

  "Sweet thing, she was, that wife of yours. Nice and sweet," the sheriff chuckled, grabbing his crotch. "She broke up a lot of families, she did."

  "You men chose to bed her. You can't blame her for your losses!" Blair exclaimed. "You're a sheriff! Why are you with these men?"

  "Lawmen don't get paid a lot. Even bounty hunting has its flaws. I was offered a sum that I couldn't resist in these hard times."

  "And you?" she glared at Sloan. "Where do you fit into all this?"

  "He sniffed out our trail and got too close to home. Other than that, your boyfriend is innocent," the sheriff said, answering for Sloan.

  "He is my husband."

  "I've been having you followed since the day you picked up that damn horse. Not once have you two made it to either a church or a justice of the peace. You are as much of a whore as the others," Malcolm said. "He's contacted his agency, but the message was intercepted and changed to read that he had reached a dead end. Just in case Pinkerton decides to send in assistance, we need to dispose of him. Make sure this looks like an accident."

  "What about the other one?" the kidnapper gestured to Madeline.

  "I'm keeping her. She'll be quiet," Malcolm said. "She will be a witness as to how her poor mistress died, in case we need an alibi."

  Blair's head was spinning. She had to find a way to stop this insanity! "What will you do with Aunt Imelda?"

  "Exactly what you wished, my dear. She will become our servant. I was thinking about bringing old Deuce back with me and letting him have her."

  Blair shuddered. As much as she despised her aunt, she would not wish her to be subjected to a disease-ridden rapist. "From what Deuce said, she would enjoy that attention extensively. After what she did to me, such pleasure would be too good for her."

  "True. Clay! What happened to you?"

  "Damn horse got in the way of my face. Sorry, Boss. He took off." The man pressed a dirty cloth on the large wound across his cheek and nose.

  "He'll be back. For some reason, that animal always returns to her. Take them out to the corral and tie them to a post. The sunshine will do them good. No, leave that one here with me," Malcolm said, gesturing towards the frightened Madeline.