Wild Western Women Boxed Set

by Kirsten Osbourne

  She sighed when she thought about Amelia and Rusty. They still dealt with each other as strangers. Which, of course they were. Just because someone had been presented as your blood relation didn’t mean you had to feel any love for them. Particularly when you’d been dumped in their lap at fourteen years of age.

  Rusty deserved quite a bit of credit, however. He did try to reach the girl, but she was cold and aloof, rejecting all his efforts. Instead, she turned to Rachel and clung to her as if she were her lifeline, which she supposed made sense. It wasn’t necessary for Amelia to feel anything for Rachel, and there was no pressure to accept her as a parent. So they had developed a friendship.

  While Amelia was turning to Rachel, her son was becoming much too attached to Rusty. Will had begun to walk like Rusty, imitating his loose-limbed stride. He cocked his hat in the same way as his idol, and yesterday she’d caught him casting Rusty’s lazy grin at her.

  For a minute there, when she was about to leave for town, it appeared Rusty would grab her and kiss her again. The look in his eyes had her stomach fluttering and her palms damp. When he abruptly turned to Will to mount up, the bond had been broken, and she wasn’t sure if she felt disappointment or relief.

  She couldn’t afford to allow this attraction. Will was her priority, and raising him properly was what she needed to concentrate on. Romance was for young lovers. She was past that stage. Marriage had not been so overwhelmingly wonderful that she was ready for a repeat.

  Rambling along the familiar path, her thoughts full of the people in her life, she didn’t notice the sound of approaching horses until they were right behind her. In a matter of minutes, three riders surrounded her wagon. She glanced briefly in their direction, didn’t recognize any of the men. Nodding politely, she stared straight ahead, aware of the shotgun under her seat, wishing it were on her lap.

  “Hey, missy, can you tell us how far to Guthrie?”

  She turned to the man who asked the question. He hadn’t seen the inside of a bathtub for quite some time. He grinned at her with his two front teeth missing. She really wished her shotgun was on her lap.

  “If you’re going to Guthrie, you’re headed in the wrong direction. It’s behind you.”

  “Is that right?” He grinned again, and looked across her to the man on her other side. “Did you hear that, Sam? It seems we’re heading in the wrong direction.”

  The other man laughed as though that was the funniest thing he’d heard all day. Rachel’s heart pumped double time, but she took a deep breath and told herself not to panic. They were probably just being friendly.

  “Maybe we don’t want to go to Guthrie after all. Maybe we just want to ride along with you.”

  Oh, God. She was in trouble. Dusk had settled in, and she was still a good three miles from the ranch. There never was a whole lot of traffic on this road, but she prayed for someone to come along.

  “What do you say, missy? Can we all just ride along with you?”

  The man named Sam guffawed again at the first man’s question.

  “Suit yourself.” She barely got the words out of her dry mouth. Why had she been so sure that she would be all right? Getting a wheel sunk in the mud was bad enough. This time she could be in a worse mess. She kept her face forward, plodding along, hoping the men were just teasing her and would soon be on their way.

  The third man came up from behind her and grabbed one of her horse’s reins. “I think it’s time we stopped this pretty little gal and had us a party.” He yanked on the reins until her horses stopped.

  All the terror she had been holding down rose to her chest as she screamed at the top of her lungs. The first man jumped from his horse onto her wagon and clamped his filthy hand over her mouth. He bonnet fell off her head, dangling on her back. She shoved her elbow back, hitting his soft middle. He only grunted and wrapped his arm around her waist, dragging her out of the wagon. She bit his finger, and he cursed and grabbed a clump of her hair, yanking so hard tears rushed to her eyes.

  Once they were on the ground, the man named Sam grabbed her feet. She kicked and screamed again, but the hand wrapped around her mouth muffled the sound. With the first man’s arm snug around her waist and Sam holding her feet, they raced into the bushes. They threw her on the ground, her hip striking a tree limb. She opened her mouth to scream again, and a dirty rag was shoved into her mouth.

  Rachel gagged, terrified she would vomit and choke to death. The third man placed his boot on her middle. “Stop wiggling around, girly, and this won’t take no time a’ tall. Hell, if you lay back real nice you might even enjoy it.”

  Both of her hands were pulled behind her back, and tightly bound. She now lay on the ground with her arms restrained and the rag stuffed into her mouth. Kicking out, she caught Sam on his chest as he knelt in front of her. He brought his hand back and slammed his fist into her face, causing lights to burst in her head.

  Disoriented for a minute, she felt him lean over her and rip the front of her dress in two, exposing her breasts to the cooling night air. “Oh, yeah. We’re gonna have us a real party tonight, boys.” He grabbed at her breast, squeezing until tears stung her eyes. She rolled onto her stomach, swallowing to keep the bile rising in her throat from going any further.

  Terrified at what they were about to do, she prayed they wouldn’t kill her. Being her precious son’s only parent, she would do whatever it took to stay alive. If she had to lay still, then dear God, she would do it to survive.

  One of the men flipped her back over and held her shoulders down, the other gripped her feet. Sam stood and began to unbuckle his belt as he stared down at where he’d torn her dress. “Yeah, she’s a looker, this one. I’m fixin’ to have us a real party with this gal.”

  Chapter Five

  Rusty pulled his pocket watch out again to glance at the time. Only five minutes had passed since he’d last checked. He rested his hands on his hips and looked down the road, frowning. Dusk was settling in, and Rachel should have been back a while ago. She’d mentioned that she had a long list of supplies this time, but she’d been gone all day.

  “Mr. McIntyre, where’s my ma?”

  Rusty squatted in front of the boy and tugged on his hat brim. “I’m sure she’ll be along any minute now. But to speed things along, I’m going to take a ride to town and escort her back.”

  “What does escort mean?”

  “It means I’ll ride alongside her. Sort of like I did when you and your ma got stuck in the mud. Do you remember that?”

  “Yes. You helped us get the wagon not stuck.”

  “That’s right. But here’s what I want you to do.” He took Will’s hand and started walking toward his house. “I’m going to leave you with Amelia in your house. I want you to stay there, and get yourself ready for bed like your ma does. Okay?”

  “Can’t I go with you to escort her home?”

  He shook his head. “No. I think your ma would be happy to come home and find you’ve already had your snack and was ready to sleep.”

  “If you’re sure . . .”

  “Yeah, little buddy, I’m sure.” No doubt everything was fine and Rachel merely got a late start back. But in the pit of his stomach he felt something wasn’t right. He never should have let her go into town by herself. Hell, he had no right to tell her what she could and couldn’t do.

  Then why did he feel like she was his responsibility?

  Rusty opened the back door to Rachel’s house. Amelia sat at the kitchen table with a glass of milk and a piece of cornbread in front of her. She gave him a curt nod, but smiled at Will. “Is your ma back yet?”

  “No.” Will frowned up at Rusty. “Mr. McIntyre is going to ride into town and escort her home.”

  “Is everything okay?” Amelia’s pinched face added to his anxiety.

  “I’m sure she’s just fine. I want the two of you to get ready for bed and stay in the house until me and your ma get back.”

  Amelia bristled at the order, but the look on his face
obviously convinced her there would be no argument on this. He was growing more concerned by the minute, and was anxious to be on his way. “Do I have your word that you’ll stay in the house?”

  “Yes, sir,” Will said.

  Amelia nodded and went back to her cornbread.

  That taken care of, he strode from the house to the barn. After tacking up, he headed down the path to the road to and from town. With the sun making its descent behind the trees, soon it would be almost impossible to see anything.

  About two miles from the ranch he pulled up on the reins at the sound of a woman’s scream. His heart sped up and his stomach clenched. That was Rachel. He slapped his legs against the horse’s heaving sides and they raced toward the sound. After about five minutes, he rounded a bend and spotted the wagon on the road, but there had been no other scream.

  He slid off the horse and looked around, but saw nothing. “Rachel!”

  She didn’t respond, but male voices and sounds of a struggle came from the woods. Pushing aside branches, he made for the sound. Ignoring any small animal holes, he continued to shove aside foliage. He reached a small clearance and rage boiled up in him, practically making his head explode.

  Rachel lay on the ground, the bodice of her dress ripped open to expose her breasts. Two men held her down while another one knelt in front of her, having just dropped his pants. With a howl like an enraged animal, Rusty sprang onto the man’s back, his arm around his neck, choking him.

  Taken by surprise, the two brutes holding her down just gaped as Rusty turned the man toward him and punched him in the nose, blood spurting out, drenching his shirt. The man attempted to get a swing at him but Rusty clipped him on the chin and continued to pound into him until he lay unconscious. One of the other men attempted to pull Rusty off, but when he turned to the man in a rage and went for his throat, the third bastard ran.

  The sound of Rachel’s whimpers brought him back from the blind rage that had engulfed him. Seeing the second man slumped on the floor of the woods, along with the first one still unconscious, he stood and brushed off his pants, and attempted to gain control of his breathing.

  Rachel had brought her knees up to cover herself. He walked to her and touched her shoulder. “No! Don’t touch me. Please, leave me alone.”

  “Rachel, honey. It’s Rusty.”

  She broke into sobs that tore him apart. He reached into his pocket and withdrew his knife. Holding her gently, he cut through the binding on her wrists. Her hands lay limp, most likely numb.

  “Honey, I need to get you up. I’m going to have to touch you.” He slid one arm under her back, the other under her knees, and lifted her. She threw her arms around his neck and sobbed as he carried her to the wagon. Still holding her in his arms, he climbed up on the wagon seat, resting her in his lap.

  For several minutes all he did was hold her against him, the rage building once again. Besides being stripped, her face bore the marks of a beating. It took all his control to not go back and put a bullet into each of her attackers’ heads.

  The best thing he could do now was to get her away from here, and into the security of her home. He shifted and she held on tighter. “Honey, we need to get you home.”

  Her grip was like iron, but he had to tie his horse to the wagon so he could lead it back. “Rachel, please let me go for just a minute.”

  She shook her head furiously.

  “Just long enough for me to get the horse. Then I’ll take you home.”

  After a minute, her hold eased and he jumped down and gathered his horse’s reins. The scant moonlight shone on her, revealing the beating to her face and her ripped dress. His jaw tightened as a knot of fury formed in his stomach. He removed his shirt and after climbing up next to her, helped her into it. He buttoned it up, and tugged her to his side.

  Rachel had stopped crying, but the small whimpers continued. With his arm wrapped firmly around her, he used his left hand to hold the reins and drive the wagon home. It seemed to take forever to reach the ranch, but when they did, he stopped in front of the bunkhouse and shouted, “Mac!”

  The older man appeared at the door, his ever-present cigarette dangling between his lips. “What?”

  “Mrs. Stevens has had an accident. I need your help.”

  Mac threw down his cigarette and stomped on it before walking up to the wagon. “What happened, is she all right?”

  Not wanting to go into details, he said, “She fell out of the wagon, got bruised up. Unload everything and see to the horses, all right?” He lifted Rachel off the seat, and settled her in his arms.

  “Is she hurt bad?”

  “Some injuries to her face. I’ll tend to her, just get the wagon taken care of.”

  “Yes, boss.” The older man lumbered away to take care of business.

  “I don’t want to go home.” Rachel’s soft voice was almost lost in the sound of Rusty’s boots crunching on the pathway stones.

  He glanced down at her. “You don’t want to go home?”

  “No. I don’t want the children to see me.”

  She’d started to cry again, so he hugged her close. “All right, honey. Just hold on. I’ll take you to my place.”

  Once he got her into his parlor and lit the lamps around the room, he was stunned to see the amount of damage. Her right eye was swollen shut, and a nasty bruise was forming on her cheekbone. Her lip was split, with dried blood crusting there. Despite the July air, she gripped her body and shivered as she rocked back and forth on the sofa.

  He had to get her out of her clothes and into something clean and warm. He knelt in front of her and took her hands in his. “You can stay the night with me. I’ll go tell Amelia you’re staying here because you got hurt in a fall. I think they’ll both be fine by themselves for the night.”

  She looked at him through one swollen eye and he wanted to put his fist through the wall. Taking a deep breath, he pulled away from her. “I’ll see to the kids, then I’ll be back. It will just take a minute.”

  ***

  Rachel twisted her fingers together as Rusty left the house. She really should go home, but with the beating she’d taken to the face, she was afraid she would terrify the children. And truth be known, she wanted someone strong to stay with her all night. Never in her entire life had she been as afraid as she’d been when she’d been dragged off into the woods.

  The horror of what would have happened if Rusty had not come onto the scene caused her stomach to cramp. She had been about to be raped by three men. Her shivers increased until she felt as though she would never feel warm and safe again.

  Even though merely a few minutes, it seemed as if Rusty had been gone for hours. Every creaking board, every male voice coming from the bunkhouse had her breaking into a sweat. She gripped her middle and rocked back and forth, a keening sound she barely recognized coming from deep inside her.

  Her head jerked up as the front door swung open. Rusty strode in, his demeanor stiff and angry. One look at him, his strength, his caring, the anxiety in his eyes, made her burst into sobs once again.

  He sat on the sofa and pulled her into his arms. After a few minutes of rubbing her back and murmuring unintelligible words in her ear, her strained muscles began to relax. It didn’t matter what he said. The sound of his voice, warm and soothing, did a lot to calm her down.

  “Are Will and Amelia all right?”

  “Yes. Will was already asleep and I told Amelia you were injured in a fall and would stay the night with me. She assured me she could take good care of Will.”

  Rachel nodded and wiped her nose on the sleeve of Rusty’s shirt. “Oh, sorry.”

  “That’s all right. I think we should get you cleaned up and into bed.” He stood and released her legs. She was able to stand, but only with him holding her tightly around the waist.

  “I need a bath. I feel so dirty.”

  “I’ll pull the tub into the kitchen and fill it up. That will give you some privacy.”

  Using a large pot, h
e filled the tub with warm water, thankful the house had indoor plumbing. He took a new bar of soap and cloth from the closet and set them on a small stool next to the tub. When he entered the living room, Rachel still sat curled up on the sofa. The hunted animal look in her eyes tore him up.

  “Come on, honey. The bath is ready.” With his arm around her shoulders, he led her to the kitchen. “Can you undress yourself?”

  “Yes. But I want this dressed burned.”

  “I’ll fetch one of my clean shirts for you to wear until I can get you another dress. I don’t think I should go back to your house for one now. We don’t want to take a chance on waking Will.”

  “No! I don’t want Will to see me like this.”

  “He won’t, honey. Just get undressed and climb into the tub. You’ll feel better.” He left her, softly closing the door.

  Rachel eased out of Rusty’s shirt, inhaling the comforting smell coming from the clean cotton. Her eyes filled once more when she noted the front of her dress torn apart. Tears leaked down her bruised face as she removed all her clothes, tossing them into a pile to be thrown away.

  All the muscles in her body hurt as she eased into the tub. The warm water felt wonderful as she sat down and leaned her head against the high metal rim. More tears ran down her cheeks. She scrubbed her skin until it was raw, but still didn’t feel clean. She dunked her head under the water, then lathered her hair and dunked again.

  “Honey, are you finished?”

  “Yes.” She tried to stand and her foot slid out from under her, jarring her entire body as she landed on her backside, water sloshing out of the tub.

  “What happened? Are you all right?”

  Rachel covered her face with her hands and sobbed. What was the matter with her? She was never so weepy before. The door to the kitchen opened slowly, and Rusty stuck his head through. “Do you need help?”

  She shook her head and wiped tears from her face, wincing where her fingers touched the bruise on her cheek. And cried harder.

  Rusty moved into the room and held out a towel. “Here, stand up, if you can, and I’ll wrap the towel around you.”