Solitary Horseman

by Camp, Deborah

  Looking from one sad expression to the next, Banner also sensed the underlying fear among the congregation. If she were honest, she was a bit fearful, too. Instead of getting better, things were getting worse. She’d hoped with the season of Christmas would come more tolerance and closer ties. Instead, she felt nervous and at loose ends. Moving slowly back to the buggy with Della, Banner spotted a hefty man on a big, black horse trotting along the road toward them. As he drew closer, she recognized the burley livery stable owner. His black, curly beard was clipped close to his square jawline, but his mustache drooped over his upper lip.

  “What’s Gus Bransetter doing out here?” she whispered to Della.

  Gus reined his impressive gelding near their buggy and surveyed the carnage before him. He hooked a thumb in his leather vest pocket, and when he smiled, yellow teeth appeared through his straggly mustache. “Looks like you ain’t wanted around here. You was warned. Hope you got the message this time.”

  Several of the men shuffled forward, riled by Bransetter’s words, but Rev. Beauchamp made a chiding sound and walked toward Bransetter’s pawing horse.

  “God wants us here,” the preacher said, staring up at Bransetter with a benign expression on his chocolate-colored face. “His wishes trump all others.”

  “You sure it ain’t the devil whispering in your ear?” Bransetter glanced around and his gaze came to rest sharply on Banner and Della. “What are y’all doing here?”

  “We came for church.” Banner tipped back her head, squinting against the sun as she faced him. “What are you doing here?”

  His expression hardened even more and he shifted his attention to the reverend, blatantly ignoring Banner’s question. “You should take this as a sign from above. Clear out now while you’re still standing.”

  Banner almost choked on her outrage. The nerve of this man! “How dare you threaten these people! You’ve no right.”

  “You better hear me and heed my words,” Bransetter said as if Banner hadn’t spoken to him. “You try to build back and the next time the church will be burned with all of y’all in it.”

  Behind her, Banner heard Della gasp in shock, but the pastor continued to smile kindly at the man on the horse who had just threatened his life and those of his congregation.

  “We covet the word of God and trust He will watch over His flock,” Rev. Beauchamp said in his sonorous voice. He waved back the men who had advanced another step after the last threat by Bransetter.

  Without giving it much thought, Banner reached out and gripped the black horse’s halter and moved closer, glaring up at Bransetter, her anger pumping fire through her veins. “Have you lost your mind? How dare you set fire to a church and then ride up and shoot your mouth off like this? I heard you loud and clear, Gus Bransetter, and I’m going to tell the sheriff about your confession.”

  “I didn’t confess to nothing,” he scoffed.

  “You threatened to kill these people. We all heard you! You must have a hankering for jail time or a rope necktie.”

  He tugged on the reins, jerking the horse’s head around and the halter from her grasp. “Get away from me, Payne trash. Should have known you’d fall in with darkies. You’d lift your skirts for a cur dog if he showed an interest.”

  The scurrilous words caused those in earshot to gasp and Banner to stagger back a step, her face flaming. Della placed an arm around her shoulders to steady her.

  “Sir! Please, apologize to this lady,” Rev. Beauchamp said.

  “Darn right,” Della chimed in.

  “That’ll be a cold day in hell.” With a harsh laugh, Bransetter turned his horse around and trotted off the way he’d come, heading for town. Staring after him, Banner realized she was breathing rapidly and her eyes stung with unshed tears. Della gave her shoulders a squeeze in a gesture of comfort and sisterhood. She patted Della’s hand and offered up a watery smile.

  “He’s a buffoon,” she said and got a nod from Della. “And I’ve been called worse.”

  “Somebody oughtta beat him like a drum,” Della groused. “You ready to head back home?”

  “Yes.” Banner turned back to the pastor. “I’m so sorry for what happened here. Please, if I can help or if you want to use my home as your chapel . . .”

  “You are most kind,” he said, his smile gentle and pure. “It’s a shame this happened, especially on the birthday of Jesus our Lord, but better days are ahead of us. Of this, I’m certain, especially with good folks like you standing with us.” He offered his hand and shook hers and then Della’s.

  Banner climbed up into the buggy and took her place beside Della. She examined the wreckage over her shoulder as they rolled away, sadness coating her like a sticky residue.

  “People can be so cruel,” she murmured.

  “And loudmouthed,” Della added. “You’re right about Gus. His big mouth is apt to land him in prison. The nightriders are getting cocky and bragging about their deeds. That could very well be what brings them down. Just because they’ve gotten away with it up until now don’t mean what they’ve done isn’t against the law.” She looked sideways at Banner and nodded slowly. “They’re liable to trip on their own rope.”

  ###

  The news of what Gus Bransetter said to Banner Payne flew across the county as fast as a crow flies to a cornfield. Della told her husband Bob about it and Bob related it to some people at the hotel. When Franklin Ames dropped in for coffee at the hotel, Teresa Combs asked if he’d heard about the ruckus. He hadn’t and he wasted no time riding back to the Latimer ranch to tell Cal about it. He knew Callum wouldn’t like it one lick, but he didn’t expect Callum to get so quiet and still, his eyes glinting darkly and his hands balling into fists. Next thing he knew, Callum Latimer was riding like the wind in the direction of Piney Ridge.

  ###

  Callum wasn’t quite as angry by the time he reached town, but he was still shaking inside. He lectured himself to cool down, but those words – Payne trash, lift your skirts, cur dog – wouldn’t let go. They grabbed everything decent in him and twisted it into knots of fury. He spotted the livery stables ahead and he couldn’t get there fast enough. Before Butter was fully stopped, he was out of the saddle and stalking into the shadowy, hay-strewn interior of the big stables. Horses nickered at him as he scouted for his prey. Like manna from heaven, Gus Bransetter stepped out from one of the stalls and squinted at Callum.

  “What can I do fer ya, Latimer?”

  “You stinking piece of horse shit,” Callum said with snarl as he stalked toward the stable owner. He threw himself at Bransetter, one hand grabbing his throat and the other fisting and plowing into his midsection. Bransetter’s breath hissed between his teeth and he grunted.

  “What the hell?” he sputtered before Callum’s fist slammed into his mouth and nose, then his cheek and nose, and then his mouth and nose. Cartilage and gristle gave way and blood spurted from his nostrils. “Get . . . uhgg . . .offame!” He managed to plant his big hands on Callum’s shoulders and shove him back.

  Callum tightened his hold on Bransetter’s neck and craned forward until their noses almost touched. “You listen to me, you bastard,” Callum growled between clenched teeth. “You ever speak again to Banner Payne the way you did today and I’ll kill you. You’re damned lucky I don’t end your worthless life right this second. But I’m giving you fair warning.” He paused, waiting for Bransetter to stop sniffing and gurgling on the blood in his nose and throat. Bransetter’s beady eyes focused on him and he spat blood in Callum’s face.

  Getting a better grip on him, Callum swung Bransetter about and stuffed his face down into a horse trough that was full of cold, gray water. Bits of straw, globules of mud, and strings of horse saliva floated on the top. He strained, keeping the man’s head under water as he struggled, writhed, and kicked like a mule. When he knew Bransetter was about to pass out, he let him up. Bransetter opened his mouth like a bass and sucked in a breath. Callum balled up his fist and rammed it into the man’s bi
g belly. He doubled over and Callum let him drop to the ground, giving him a good, hard kick in the ribs. He figured he cracked a couple of them.

  “Chicken shit,” Callum said, wiping the blood and spit off his face with a sweep of his coat sleeve. “You want to talk disrespectful to someone, try me. Spineless weasels like you would rather spout off at ladies.” He kicked Gus again, making him roll onto his back and stare up at him. Callum bent over to make solid eye contact. “You heard me. I’ll finish you if you ever speak that way again to her. And I won’t wear a mask or a hood when I do. I’ll kill you like I killed Yankees in the war. Face to face so that this –” He pointed to his scowling visage. “—will be the last thing you see before you get to hell.”

  Straightening slowly, he stepped over the sprawled figure and left him bleeding and gasping like a skinned catfish on the riverbank.

  ###

  The news of what Callum Latimer did to Gus Bransetter covered the county like a hail storm, stinging its way from person to person. People in town discovered what happened and the storm of gossip exploded. Within an hour, Shane Potter got wind of it and told Hollis when he bumped into him on the way back to the Latimer ranch. Hollis blasted home and told his sister all about it.

  “He did what?” Banner asked, appalled and – well, a little elated. Callum had beaten up Gus Bransetter in defense of her honor! She didn’t rightly know how to feel about that. She should be upset, angry even. And she was! But she was also wishing she could throw her arms around his neck and kiss him hard. Mighty hard.

  “That’s right. And Bransetter and his buddies are fit to be tied over it. They’re on the warpath for sure now.”

  “Oh no.” She swallowed the lump of worry that clogged her throat. “I should go right now and speak to Callum about this.”

  “Oh no, you don’t.” Hollis grabbed his hat off the table and stuck it back over his wispy blond hair. “You’re staying here because I don’t have time to escort you anywhere. I have to meet up with Ben and finish feeding the herd before sundown.” He pointed a warning finger at her. “You stay put. You’ve caused enough trouble for one day.”

  “Trouble? Just how have I—” But she was talking to air because Hollis had already taken his leave. Staring after him, she mentally told him what he could do with his high-handed orders. She didn’t need him to escort her! She was a free woman and could take herself anywhere she wanted to go.

  Pacing back and forth in the parlor, she imagined the confrontation between the greasy, oafish Gus and her handsome, honorable Callum. Her Callum? Oh, well. It was her imagination, so it could be her Callum, she reasoned. He would have stormed in and told Gus that he owed her an apology for what he’d said to her face and in front of others. Gus would have refused and Callum would have given him a taste of what he could do with his fists. Gus would have crumbled like an ant hill under a boot heel, pleaded for Callum not to hit him again, and then begged for forgiveness, swearing he’d never say a bad word against Banner Payne ever again.

  Smiling, she clasped her hands and squeezed her eyes shut in a frisson of sweet revenge. Callum had come to her rescue. Again. She wanted to see him. Had to see him. She’d ride over and risk the burn of his displeasure at being out alone. Once she thanked him – ahem, properly – he wouldn’t stay mad at her, she decided with a saucy grin.

  She’d taken two steps toward her bedroom with an aim to change clothes and tame her hair into something other than its current tangle of curls pinned at the top of her head when she heard hoof beats. Rushing to the window with a tingle of apprehension, she peeked through the curtains and released a sigh of relief followed by a squeak of pleasure when she saw the big palomino and its rider. Callum!

  He was stomping up the steps and onto the porch before she could reach the front door. He opened it without even knocking, glanced around, and then pinned her with green eyes that sparked with angry fire.

  “What were you thinking going to that church this morning?”

  “Um, well,” she stammered, confused by his anger and question. “It’s Sunday.”

  “You want to make more trouble?” he barked at her, taking a long stride toward her so that she could feel the heat coming off him, despite the fact that he’d just come in from the cold. “Don’t you figure that pastor has enough to do, opening a church for freed slaves to worship in, presiding at a white Yankee’s service while trying to keep his own neck out of a noose?”

  “I . . . wasn’t.” She pressed her lips together to keep from spouting rubbish and gathered her scattered thoughts. How could he be more handsome when he was mad? It wasn’t fair. “I wanted to show my gratitude and I wanted to go to church. Della asked if I wanted to visit the Rev. Beauchamp’s chapel and I did. We’d been invited to attend.”

  “Just because you’re invited, doesn’t mean it’s a good idea to go.” He gripped her shoulders, then bent his knees until he was eye to eye with her. “This is not a game or even a test of wills, Banner. These men are murdering people, setting fire to their homes and churches, dragging men behind their horses and then hanging them right in front of their families.” His fingers tightened when she started to shake her head in mute denial. “You can’t go thumbing your nose at them and think they won’t retaliate.”

  “I won’t bow to them.” She lifted her chin, but felt it tremble.

  “Neither will I, but you can’t be foolish either.” He pulled her into his arms and his chest rose and fell against her cheek. He smelled of winter and leather and wood smoke. “It’s bad enough that one of them would speak to you with disrespect, but when I think of any of them touching you . . . hurting you . . .” He pressed his face against the side of her neck and his lips moved against her skin in an open-mouthed kiss that sent a thrill shimmering through her.

  Banner closed her eyes, soaking up every moment in his arms where she felt safe and desired and beautiful. “Hollis told me that you went after Gus Bransetter for what he said to me.”

  “I did.” His lips caressed her skin with each word.

  “Thank you, Callum.”

  He smiled against the side of her neck before he lifted his head to let her see it on his lips. “Did you think I’d let that bastard defame you and not make him regret every word?”

  She shook her head. “I didn’t think . . . I guess I didn’t expect anyone to do anything about it.”

  A frown line appeared between his eyes. “You don’t think Hollis wouldn’t have done the very same thing I did?”

  She wanted to voice confidence in her brother, but when it came to this . . . “I don’t know. It depends on if Hollis is having a good day or a bad one. On a good day, yes, he’d confront my attacker. On a bad day, I couldn’t say. Sometimes Hollis is so far into his head or out of it that he isn’t fully aware of what’s going on around him – until it’s too late.”

  “Listen to me.” He waited for her gaze to sharpen on him. “You have to rein in your sassy mouth. Let me and the other men handle this.”

  She flinched, his words feeling like a slap. “Like you men took care of the war?”

  He stiffened. “I’m trying to not start another one, Banner.”

  “What makes you think I sassed Gus Bransetter?”

  “Just a hunch. You saying you didn’t?”

  “I told him what I thought of him.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “And why shouldn’t I? Would you expect me to hold my tongue when he all but said he was responsible for burning down the Rugged Cross Church?”

  “He said that?”

  “He almost bragged about it.” She ran her hands down his coat, then began unbuttoning it, deciding he was going to stay awhile. “That’s what is most frustrating. That they feel above the law. That they are the law of the land.”

  “That will be their downfall. The real lawmen won’t stand for it.” He watched, arching an eyebrow, as she undid the last button on his coat, but didn’t object when she pushed the garment off his shoulders. She stepped around h
im and tugged the coat completely off him, then his hat.

  “Want a cup of coffee?” she asked, hanging his coat and hat on a peg by the door and starting for the kitchen. He caught her by the wrist and whipped her around to him again. She released a half gasp, half squeak and found herself staring into eyes that were laden with desire.

  “No. This is what I want.” He closed his fingers around her chin and tipped her head back before his lips covered hers, gently at first, and then with restless persistence. “Banner, Banner,” he murmured between kisses. “Do you know how much I want you?”

  His words made her dizzy with hope. She opened to him, her lips, her heart, her very soul, and in that startling moment she realized that she was in love with him. Had been for some time now. The budding love blossomed as his kisses deepened. She caressed his back, thrilling to the feel of corded muscle under his shirt. When his hand moved from her chin down over her throat and cupped her breast, she moaned as her nipples hardened and throbbed.

  With an answering moan, he wrapped his arms around her waist and hips, lifted her off her feet, and carried her into her bedroom. He sat down on her bed and pulled her into his lap. Pushing his fingers gently through her hair, he released pins and watched her tresses loosen and tumble over the back of his hands.

  “So beautiful . . . you’re so beautiful.” He brought her lips to his again and his tongue flirted with hers, making her smile. “Every time I’m alone with you, I want to do this. Kiss you, touch you, explore every inch of you. I want you, Banner. Good God, I want you.”

  His mouth commanded hers to open wider and his tongue stroked in and out, causing a spiraling sensation in her midsection that tunneled to the delta between her thighs. She arched into him, flattening her breasts against his chest. He fell back onto the bed, bringing her with him, on top of him. Her fingers twisted in his hair as she kissed him with abandon.