by kps
"Yes, ma'am," came the respectful reply before the deputy returned to his appointed task.
Three
When Jenny finally awoke, she was dazed and disoriented, unable to think clearly for the first quarter-hour or so. She found herself wearing nothing but a sheer, gaudy pink negligee and lying beneath the covers of a wide and comfortable enough bed.
She could not think how she'd come to be here or why, when she tried to move her arms, their freedom was restricted. A tiny, puzzled frown wrinkled her brow as she gazed at the ropes binding her wrists to the bars of the brass headboard.
Why would someone tie her? Where were her clothes? What on earth was she doing in this strange place? She had questions but no answers. Her mouth felt dry and cottony, and she tried to reach for the water glass on the night stand. The movement caused her to stretch and as she winced painfully at the raw ache in every muscle, it all came back to her.
Her muscles hurt from the long ride forced .upon her by the outlaw gang who had abducted her and fled south to a safe haven in Helena. She had recognized the town, even though it had been night when they arrived.
She was bound because she had defiantly insisted that she would escape and see that they were all arrested, and she had been given a drug to ensure a state of passivity. It must have been a strong dose, for she still felt muddled and light-headed. She remembered the smell as they had forced it down her. It was laudanum. She had seen enough of it at the hospital in London to know it well.
Jenny realized the immediate danger of the drug. It was an opium derivative, capable of relieving pain but also highly addictive. Dear God, she remembered seeing some of the cases of sick people who had recovered from their illness only to find they were often sicker when the pain-relieving laudanum was withdrawn. One woman she had helped to nurse had described vividly the feelings of withdrawal. .Her skin had felt on fire, she'd said, even while her body shook with chills. She would wake screaming in the night, imagining monster forms poised to attack from every corner of the room. At the worst times, it seemed as though bugs were crawling beneath her skin.
Jenny wasn't sure she had the strength to come through such an ordeal with her sanity. If they tried to give the drug to her again, she would ... what could she do, she thought in sudden despair. All the brave front and spirit she had shown the night before seemed to vanish.
She had not been abducted. on a whim. The gang leader had intimated as much when they'd stopped for a short rest during their escape. Somehow it helped her courage to try to catalogue the things she did know about the kidnapping, for the facts and reasons she didn't know were overwhelming by themselves.
Jennifer Bryant was no longer the hesitant virgin who had married Rodrigo. When the outlaw had dragged her before him on his horse and galloped off, with poor Isa held by another, Jenny had fully expected that they would both be raped. The man had held her close, effectively silencing her first wild struggles by gripping her waist so tightly with his arm that she was soon out of breath. In that soft, menacing drawl of his, he had warned her to keep still and loosened his grip somewhat when she'd complied.
He had not molested her during the. ride, though several times she had squirmed uncomfortably when his hand lightly traced the outline of her figure. The gang had kept a fast pace, staying well off the main road. They were anxious to maintain the advantage of time their surprise attack had given them, an advantage over the authorities who would begin an armed search soon after the robbery was reported.
When the rains had finally begun, the four riders paused under the shelter of a stand of trees, stopping only long enough to unpack their rainwear and mount up again. Ignoring her protests that she would rather be soaked, her captor had pulled her under the garment he'd called a poncho, stretching the neck opening of the water resistant, blanket-like material over her head so that it covered them both.
Even though it brought her even closer to his body, Jenny had been glad for the cover when the downpour continued well into the evening: The outlaw holding Isa on his mount had not been so gallant, and the maid was forced to ride on with no protection from the blasting winds that forced the sheets of rain directly against the group.
Warmed by the man's body as she lay cradled against him, Jenny had fallen asleep sometime in the last hour before they reached the outskirts of Helena. Tension and apprehension had worn her down and she had slipped into uneasy dreams without realizing it. She awoke with a start to find that they were quietly making their way along an alley that ran the length of a number of buildings.
The man who held her, the one they called Beau, signalled the other outlaws to a halt at the last building.
Jenny heard him tell one of them to take Isa inside and make sure she stayed quiet. Another was ordered to see to the horses; and then Beau drew off the poncho and dismounted, pulling her down into his arms.
With as much dignity as she could summon in her helpless position, Jenny coldly inquired what he was going to do. He said nothing, staring down at her as she lay captive against his chest, and instead, in the darkness and the still pouring rain, his mouth answered with a deep, searching kiss that left Jenny too surprised to even struggle. She lay still as he climbed a flight of stairs to the second floor, kicked at the door to the building, and carried her into a well-lit room that appeared to be an office. "I know damn well what I'd like to do," he said finally, and Jenny had no doubt as to what he had implied. Angrily she blushed and refused to meet the appraising look in his eyes.
When she was taken from the stage, a scarf tied like a mask had covered most of his features, and during the ride, a great deal of it in the dark, she had not had a good opportunity to see his face. Then, as he put her down for a moment, Jenny had a chance to see that he was in no way the ugly rough she had expected all such outlaws to be.
The man's features were even and almost refined under a neat thatch of straight, sandy hair. His voice and manners reflected a gentleman's background. She had thought to appeal to that within him when she asked why she'd been kidnapped.
For a moment Beau had looked regretful and her hopes had risen, only to be dashed seconds later when, hard-faced, he graboed her arm, pulling her along through another door that led to a hallway. "I just did a job, that's all," he answered hoarsely.
Somewhere in the distance, from beyond a door at the end of the hall, Jenny had heard loud music and the sound of a great many voices. Taking advantage of his dropped guard, Jenny was able to wrench her arm away. Beyond that last door there were people who might help her find the authorities.
She had almost reached the door when Beau caught her, circling her small waist with his arms to swing her away from it. Jenny fought like a wild thing, screaming out for help, hoping someone would come. When he cut off her screams by slamming his hand over her mouth, she bit down as hard as she could, rewarded by a cursing oath and temporary freedom. One of the doors lining the hall opened, and a man who was only half-dressed poked his head out to find the cause of the commotion.
Beau took advantage of the silence to pick up Jenny and toss her over his shoulder, heading for the door opposite from their curious observer. As he passed the man, he commented jestingly, "This new one sure is a hell-raiserl Can't decide whether she wants t'be a whore or notl"
Jenny had gasped indignantly as the man joined Beau in a moment's laughter. Before she could recover enough to blurt out the truth, a feminine voice called out from behind the man, and he quickly withdrew and shut the door. Beau carried her-into the room, slamming the door with a backward kick of his foot before he marched over to the bed and tossed her onto it.
She had popped up immediately, and Beau, still nursing his aching hand, was no longer patient or gentlemanly. He bent over and caught her arms, shaking her roughly until he was sure he had her attention. "No more kickin' or screamin', little lady, or you'll feel the backside of my hand," he threatened, his expression stormy enough to cause Jenny to believe he would do so.
He told her then
that he was leaving, locking her in until someone brought her dry clothes.
As she rubbed the sore spot where his finger, even through the material of her jacket and blouse, had dug into her skin, she glared up at him in impotent rage.
During the time she was left alone, she went over the room searching for an escape route and for something to use as a defensive weapon. She discovered neither. There was nothing sharp, nothing heavy enough to use as a club, and no window or door, save that one which he had locked after himself.
When the key finally turned in the lock, Jenny was lying on the bed with her eyes closed. An apathy had settled over her, a weariness of the spirit as much as the body. Until a woman's voice spoke at the side of the bed, she didn't even care to open her eyes to question who had entered.
"Ma'am?" Jenny forced her heavy eyelids to open and found a woman dressed in maid's clothing staring down at her. "I was told to bring you these," she said. On the nightstand, she placed a tray holding a covered plate and a glass of some liquid that looked chalky white.
To forestall the rebellion she saw brewing on the prisoner's face, the maid had turned to a tall, armed man standing in the shadows behind her. "Sanders is here t'see that you don't cause no fuss," she told Jenny. "We all got orders-you'll be better off if you don't fight none."
The woman had been right, of course. She would not give them reason to abuse her. Jenny had started to drink the liquid, rebelling as she realized what it was, and at a signal from the maid, Sanders had stepped forward to hold her head while she was forced to down it, Sparing herself additional trouble, the woman waited patiently until the drug had taken effect on Jenny before dressing her in a sheer negligee.
The maid seemed to have less compassion than Beau had displayed, brusquely pulling off her layers of clothing in full sight of the guard. To Jenny's drugged mind, it seemed that his leering stare intensified, but she soon found that she didn't care any more. She only wanted to be left alone.
That had all happened last night and now, without the benefit of a clock or even a window to tell her the time of day, Jenny had no idea how many hours had passed. Had she slept the entire next day? Could it be night again? The lack of anything to occupy the passing minutes only intensified her total isolation.
From beyond her door, she occasionally heard feminine giggles and-a deeper rumble of a man's laughter as a couple came down the hall to use one of the rooms. This must be a saloon-one of those disreputable establishments whose dance girls were also available to share a few hours of private entertainment for an additional price.
When she'd been awake for almost an hour, the maid returned, efficiently carrying pail after pail of steaming water to fill the deep brass tub that sat in the corner of the room, half-hidden by a wood and parchment screen.
Jenny broke the silence to ask what had become of her own maid, Isabella. "At least tell me if she's all right," she pleaded anxiously. The request was ignored. "I don't even know who's behind this or why anyone would ..." Her voice trailed off, the statement directed more to herself than the unresponsive maid.
Mavis bustled about, following the orders she'd been given. She knew well enough what this girl's fate would be. The same thing had happened to other girls during I her three years of service to Lil Conti. The others had been whores, girls who were troublesome to Lil, or just too greedy for their own good. This one was different, though, with the clothes and manners of a fine lady. She wondered briefly what the dark-haired beauty had done to deserve such treatment. . Well, it was none of her business, was it? She followed orders and kept her nose out of what went on at. The Black Lily. She wasn't getting any younger, and here, at least, she was fed and clothed and no longer subject to the whims of those grubby, woman-starved miners who'd forgetten that a woman, even a whore, wasn't meant to be maltreated.
If they were planning to addict this girl to opium, why should Lil bother to see she was kept fed and clean? Mavis could only suppose that Lil had some strong, personal grudge in this case and wanted the girl to remain healthy until she was totally dependent on her for a supply of the drug. Again, as she worked the knot of rope from the girl's wrist and found the skin reddened and sore, she reminded herself that it was none of her business.
"You'd best get somethin' down your belly," she advised, wondering why she'd even bothered to suggest it.
The covered plate of food she'd brought the night before was untouched, and she replaced it with the tray she'd just brought. Another tall glass containing the drug sat next to the food.
Mavis had orders to see the girl took it before she left the room.
"I don't want anything," Jenny snapped crossly. "Just tell me who's behind all this!" Her apprehension and fear had multiplied during the long hours of isolation. It seemed that every nerve in her body jangled, and though she wanted to resist, Jenny already craved the tranquility and soothing relief the drug would bring.
The girl's voice had an edge of hysteria Mavis recognized. It would be better if she had the drink now. She would be easier to handle, and, the maid thought in fleeting sympathy, feel less threatened. "You drink this down, honey," she ordered, holding the glass to Jenny's mouth. "I got my orders, and it'll make y'feel lots better. Believe me, there ain't no use fightin' it ... they got other ways, y'know?"
Jenny briefly considered shoving the drug away, spilling it, but the maid was right. There was always more where this had come from. Her body trembled with nervous exhaustion, and the will to resist what seemed inevitable was no longer so strong. Even as she swallowed, draining the glass of the laudanum, she realized that she was succumbing to the distant machinations of the warped mind that had conceived this slow, addicting torture.
The laudanum was soon at work, easing the tension of her limbs and leaving her almost puzzled as to why she had been so upset. No one had hurt her, she was supplied her meals, and the bath looked so inviting that she went along with passive contentment when the maid helped her to disrobe and climb into the warm, scented water.
The colors of the room, shades of dark, mellow red, seemed to surround her as though she were looking at her small world through a glass of port wine. All her senses seemed heightened. Colors were brighter, the perfumed cake of soap brought forth a vivid image of rosebuds, and even the texture of the sponge slipping sensually over her skin felt like the caress of fine satin.
By the time she had washed her hair and finished the bath, the drug had taken full effect.
Jenny found herself almost reluctant to leave the soothing water, but she was as docile as a trusting child now and stood obediently still while Mavis wrapped her in a bath sheet, fluff-dried her hair until it curled damply across her shoulders, and finally, helped her to slip on a fresh gown.
The new negligee was black silk, its bodice lacy and revealing. The silk was gathered beneath her breasts, tied with a single ribbon, and clung to every curve of her slender figure. Jenny's eyes were wide, the blue of her irises almost obscured by their dilated pupils. She held up one arm, touching the black silk that draped it and turningto smile at Mavis. "Oh ... it's so pretty," she whispered softly. With the simple pleasure of a little girl, she added, "I like this much better than the pink, don't you?"
Mavis experienced a twinge of guilt as she led the girl back to bed and helped her beneath the dark velvet bedspread. The drug had made her fears disappear, and her former state of agitation seemed to have dissolved. Anxious to complete her unpleasant duties, Mavis retied the captive's wrist and reached into the deep pocket of her apron for another length of rope.
Lil had emphasized that she wanted both wrists tied, though in her present state, the poor thing was hardly a threat to anyone.
Jenny curiously studied the bonds that restricted her freedom to move about the confined space of her room. She felt no sense of alarm, for she really had no place to go, did she?
With infinite care, her dazed mind slowly turned over the question of why she would be bound so securely but abandoned the effort soon e
nough when she found it too strenuous an activity.
Mavis finished her work, emptying the bath water and returning the previous day's tray to the small kitchen that serviced the saloon's live-in staff. When she was about to leave, she glanced back with a troubled expression. Jenny smiled, as if to say there was nothing to worry over, and Mavis made a hasty retreat, locking the door after herself before she surrendered to her impulse to disobey Lil's orders and leave the girl unbound.
Jenny slept again, aware that time had passed when she woke only by the gathering shadows at the edges of her room. The single lamp, placed on the nightstand to her left, had burned a quantity of oil and gave off a dim, flickering glow that caused the shadows to shift and dance in a constantly changing pattern.
Once more she drifted into a deep sleep, unaware that Mavis had entered to replenish the lamp's oil supply. The opium-induced rest was also uninterrupted when, several hours later, the door was unlocked once more, and Beau Stanner quietly entered, locking it once more from within.
Beau walked to the side of the bed, his steps muffled against the worn carpeting. The ropes that bound Jennifer Bryant to brass rungs of the headboard came as no great shock as he recalled the wild struggle he'd had getting her into the room without arousing anyone's suspicions.
She was a hellcat, all right! Beneath that ladylike air of good breeding, she was as spirited as any woman he'd met. It had been a long time, as far back as the pre-War South, since he'd chanced on someone like her, and the desire that had flamed within him on the long ride to Helena had stirred him to arraction that surprised even himself.
He'd gone to Lil, offering to give up his share of the stolen gold to spend one night with the girl. He wanted the chance to possess the abducted girl before LiI returned her for the ransom she'd demanded from the bank agent in Langdon who handled her father's account.
