Darlin' Druid

by Lyn Horner

  “Dirty bastards!” Reece snarled, voice raspy from smoke. His face was a mask of fury in the garish light from the burning rafters. “They’ll probably drill us the minute we step outside.”

  “A bullet’s better than burning,” Sul said, coughing hard. Even as he spoke, a shaft of flaming wood dropped from the ceiling, catching the hem of Jessie’s skirt afire.

  “David!” she screamed, trapped in the heart of her nightmare. In a panic, she tried unthinkingly to scoot away from the flames, but she only drew them with her as they climbed voraciously up the delicate material, nipping at her underskirts as well.

  Anna shrieked and Reece gave a horrified yell. Then David was there, whipping off his coat and beating at Jessie’s skirts, just as in her dreams. One thing was different: when the flames were out and he looked up, along with the tenderness in his eyes, she saw an awful helplessness.

  He pulled her against him, and she felt him shake violently, mirroring her own trembling. “I swore to protect you but I can’t. God forgive me!”

  She tightened her arms around him. “Sul’s right. Anything’s better than burning,” she croaked, throat raw from smoke and fear.

  Releasing her, he nodded grimly. “We’ve got no choice,” he told his father, and Reece nodded in resignation.

  Staying low to avoid the smoke, David opened the door an inch or two. “We’re coming out,” he shouted hoarsely. “Hold your fire. We have women with us.”

  “Come ahead but don’t try anything,” ordered the same villain. He must be leading the attackers, for he’d done all the talking.

  David shoved the door open wide and grasped Jessie’s hand. Coughing, wheezing and clinging to each other, their little group emerged from the burning house, smoke billowing above their heads. Jessie stumbled across the porch and down the steps, leaning on David. Behind them limped Reece with Anna whimpering and clinging to his arm. Last came Sul, supporting the wounded Shorty.

  “Throw away your guns,” ordered the outlaw leader from behind the nearby horse trough.

  Keeping his left arm around Jessie, David tossed aside his carbine and handgun. Reece and the other two men did likewise. Behind them, the roof caved in with an ear-splitting crash that made Jessie shriek and clutch at David. He embraced her as if he would never let her go.

  Then the raiders fell upon them like locusts. Two of them tore David away from Jessie, while another grabbed her from behind, drawing a frightened shriek from her burning throat.

  “Take your hands off her, you bastard!” David roared, fighting to break free.

  “Now that’s not very hospitable,” the man holding Jessie said, his harsh, familiar voice that of the head villain. Then he shoved her into the hands of another, growled and smashed his fist into David’s jaw, snapping his head back. Jessie gave a strangled cry and struggled to free herself, but the man behind her merely tightened his painful grip on her arms while his leader drove a second blow into David’s mid-section. He grunted in pain and slumped forward, held up only by his captors.

  Meanwhile, Anna was yanked away from Reece and knocked to the ground by a thickset outlaw. When Reece swore and took a swing at him, the brute clubbed him over the head with the butt of his pistol. Jessie sobbed as her father-in-law fell, unconscious. On her knees in the dirt, Anna screamed dementedly.

  Sul made a move to help her, and a gunshot rang out. He hollered and dropped to the ground, grabbing his shoulder. Ignoring his groan of pain, the villain who’d shot him hauled him roughly back to his feet and prodded him, stumbling, alongside a badly limping Shorty toward the bunkhouse. No doubt to be caged up with their friends.

  “Shut up, old woman!” bellowed the savage who had knocked Anna down and clubbed Reece. When Anna didn’t obey, he bent and slammed a meaty fist at her tiny chin, knocking her out.

  Appalled by his brutality, Jessie shrieked and kicked backward at the man who held her arms pinioned. He swore and tightened his grip again, making her gasp in pain.

  “Damn you!” David croaked between bloody lips.

  For daring to protest, he got another fist in his belly from the leader of the vile animals.

  “Leave him alone, ye black-hearted fiend!” Jessie cried. She kicked at her captor again, then cried out when he twisted her arms in retaliation.

  “Keep quiet, gal, or you’ll get the same,” he warned.

  “She’s not to be harmed. Yet,” a muffled, oddly slurred voice declared.

  Jessie swung her head toward the sound and saw a man step out of the darkness. He was dressed all in black from his wide-brimmed hat and long duster to his polished boots. A black bandanna covered the lower half of his face, and he wore black leather gloves, with his right hand tucked into his coat pocket.

  For a moment he simply stood there – staring at her, Jessie sensed with a cold feeling of dread. Then he sauntered slowly toward her, the long coat flapping around his legs. He was within a few feet of her when his eyes picked up the fire’s glow from behind her. They glared at her like two red-orange beams of evil.

  She screamed in terror. It was the madman from her visions!

  “Tsk, tsk, Jessie, is that any way to greet a guest?” he hissed in that slurred voice from behind his bandanna. He gestured toward her singed skirt. “I see you had a brush with the flames. I do hope you weren’t damaged.”

  Although lightheaded with shock, she noticed that he spoke as if they were acquainted. “D-d-do I know ye, sir?”

  He laughed. “We’ve met. But I see you’re having trouble placing me. Perhaps I should jog your memory.” Reaching up, he pulled off his hat, revealing sandy hair and the hazel eyes reflecting the fire.

  Looking into those bottomless pits of hatred, Jessie gasped in disbelief. “Blake!” she cried faintly, sagging against the man who held her.

  “Ah, I’m glad you remember this much of me. Alas, you may find the rest somewhat . . . changed.” With that, he yanked down the black bandanna.

  She screamed again at the sight of his mutilated face. His left cheek was sunken and distorted by the thick red scar extending from near the corner of his mouth almost to his ear. He’d shaved off his mustache, and she could see why; it would have accentuated the odd slant of his lips. Pulled up by the rigid scar into a permanent, lopsided sneer, his mouth refused to open fully when he spoke, causing his slurred speech.

  “Jesus Christ!” David muttered, his husky voice registering through Jessie’s shock.

  Blake fired a killing glare at him, then returned his attention to her. “You had a fine time tonight, didn’t you,” he scoffed. “Friends, music, dancing – while I hid out here in the dark.”

  “Y-ye were here the whole time?”

  “Oh, I’ve been observing you from afar for weeks, my pet, ever since discovering your hiding place.”

  Jessie’s skin crawled at the thought of him watching her.

  “You know, it didn’t take me long to learn your husband had whisked you off to Texas, but I confess it wasn’t easy finding you in this barbaric state. It was in San Antonio where my friend Seth – he indicated the villain with the ugly voice – chanced to hear about a trial going on west of Waco. It involved a gang of cattle thieves and it seemed their main accuser was a man named Taylor.”

  At David’s muttered oath, Blake laughed at him derisively. “Yes, Taylor, I’m happy to say your exemplary act of good citizenship led me to Jessie. After that, it was merely a matter of waiting for the perfect moment to strike.” To Jessie, he said, “When Seth discovered you were to hold a party, I knew this would be my night. I couldn’t let you enjoy all the gaiety without me, after all.”

  He stepped close and ran a gloved finger down her cheek, making her cringe. “Too bad I couldn’t actually join the party, but I would have frightened the ladies with your husband’s handiwork, don’t you agree?” He shot David another murderous glare. “He nearly spoiled my plans by riding away earlier, but I waited patiently and he returned. Eager for your bed, I’m sure.”

  Grind
ing his teeth, he added, “But wait, you haven’t seen the other reminder he gave me of our last meeting.” Drawing his right hand from his coat pocket, he thrust it in front of her face. The curled, black-gloved fingers poised as if to tear her apart, just as in her visions, wringing a choked cry from her lips. Blake tore off the glove and yanked his coat sleeve back, showing her his ruined wrist and contorted hand.

  “Not pretty, is it?” He stared at it for a moment, then lowered it and stepped back. “But enough of these minor pleasantries. Now that we’re all here, the real fun can begin.”

  Jessie’s heart pounded and she grew light-headed. She closed her eyes, struggling not to faint, although part of her wished she would.

  David watched her helplessly. He had just begun to breathe normally after the pounding he’d taken, when the shock of seeing Blake Stanton hit him like another fist in his gut. Damning himself for not killing the son of a bitch back in Alta, and for letting him get away, he couldn’t stand to watch Stanton torment Jessie.

  “Leave her alone, you ugly bastard! It’s me you want!” he shouted as loudly as his raspy voice allowed.

  Baring his teeth, Stanton flew at him and grabbed him by the throat with his crippled hand. “Ugly, am I? If I am, it’s your doing!”

  “Only showed . . . your true face . . . to world,” David forced out, fighting for air.

  Snarling, Stanton pressed harder, and David heard a roaring noise in his head. He arched against the hands binding him, seeing spots before his eyes. Then Stanton suddenly released him. Gulping air, David closed his eyes for a few seconds. When he opened them, the sidewinder had backed off.

  “I’m not going to kill you yet, Taylor,” he hissed. “You’ve cost me far too much to let you die easily. Your end will be slow and very, very painful, I promise you.”

  He tugged off his left glove, using his teeth in place of his right hand, and tossed both gloves aside. “Meanwhile, you can watch while I mete out long overdue punishment to your lovely wife.” He grinned grotesquely at David’s snarl of rage. “Naturally my friends will also want their turn with her.”

  “I’ll kill you first, so help me!” David ground out, again fighting to free himself, all to no avail.

  Stanton laughed and threw a glance at the cabron called Seth. “Bring the two of them. The rest of you bring torches. I want plenty of light.” Then he turned and strode toward the corral.

  “No!” David cried as Seth took charge of Jessie and pulled her, reeling and stumbling, in the same direction.

  “Shut up,” one of his captors barked as they hauled him after her.

  Stanton waited by the corral. He pointed to a live oak that grew near the corner of the barn. “Tie him to that tree so he can watch,” he ordered with a maniacal laugh. To Seth, he said, “You know what to do with her.”

  “Sure thing, Boss.” Grinning, the man dragged Jessie toward the corral fence. She screamed and fought him, but her efforts were useless.

  “No!” David bellowed again, digging in his heels against the grasping hands that sought to drag him away from her. Berserk rage surged through his veins, lending him greater strength. Snarling, he twisted and tore his arms free. He fought savagely, landing several solid punches before Stanton’s pack of wolves piled on him, pounding him to the ground.

  “That’s enough!” he heard Seth yell through ringing ears. “Tie him to the damn tree like the boss said.”

  In short order, David sat lashed to the oak tree, arms bent back on either side of the thick trunk. He had a torn lip and a sore middle, and one eye was swelling shut, but all of that meant nothing. Snarling and cursing, he fought against his rope bindings, driven by the sight of Jessie’s white, terror-stricken face. She stood sobbing uncontrollably, with her arms stretched taut between the posts that framed the corral gate.

  Seth finished tying her left wrist and backed away. “She’s all set, boss,” he told Stanton.

  David uttered a frenzied howl and strained with all his might to break free, but he was powerless to save Jessie. There had been times during the war when he’d been scared enough to pray. He did so now, begging only for his wife’s deliverance.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Jessie shivered in the pre-dawn cold. A light wind blew tangled strands of hair across her tear-wet face. They carried the fire’s smoky odor. Ordering herself to stop sniveling, she clutched the ropes that stretched her arms taut and tried to keep her knees from quaking as Blake stepped up to her. For David’s sake and the sake of her own pride, she meant to stand strong for as long as she could.

  “The time has come for you to pay for your treachery, Jessie,” he said, flicking the hair out of her eyes so that she could clearly see his arrogant, twisted sneer.

  She jerked away from his touch and glared her defiance. “Ye dare accuse me of treachery after pretending to be my friend, when all the time ye were planning to make me your whore? Ye turn my stomach, ye lying fiend!”

  He gripped her jaw, fingers digging into her flesh. “Irish bitch! You’ll beg for mercy before I finish with you.”

  She narrowed her eyes and gritted her teeth. “Never, by the blessed saints!”

  Snarling, he grasped the top edge of her bodice and ripped the satin gown open to her waist, leaving her breasts covered only by a thin camisole. She gave an involuntary cry and squeezed her eyes shut against his greedy, torchlit gaze and those of his men. But she couldn’t shut out David’s maddened curses or the terrible knowledge that he would witness every ugly thing they did to her.

  Blake cupped her breast, and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming. His fingers snaked under her camisole, and an anguished groan escaped her when he found the pearl necklace she’d hidden in her cleavage before stumbling from the burning house.

  “Ah, what have we here? A surprise!” he exclaimed.

  Eyes flying open, Jessie indignantly watched him examine the pearls David had given her, for which she had repaid him with jealousy and distrust. She had never told him how much she loved him. Dear God, she hadn’t even told him about the baby. Now she would never have the chance.

  “This should fetch a handsome price,” Blake said, slipping the necklace into his pocket.

  “Thief! Murderer!” she spat, engulfed by white-hot hatred at the realization of what was to become of the innocent life within her. “If I could lay my hands on a knife, I’d sink it in your evil heart, Blake Stanton!”

  He laughed and eyed her breasts. “Such fire, Jessie. I’m glad to see your husband hasn’t broken your spirit. I promised myself that pleasure a long time ago, as you may recall.”

  Reaching out, he slid his hand beneath her camisole again, causing her to inhale sharply. He squeezed her breast hard, then viciously pinched her nipple, forcing a cry from her lips.

  “Take your filthy hands off her!” David roared.

  His savage snarls were briefly drowned out by a flurry of gunshots from the bunkhouse. There came shouts and a pained outcry, then the shooting subsided again. The trapped men had failed to break free.

  “No one’s going to interfere this time,” Blake gloated, smirking over his shoulder at David. “My men will make certain of that.” He continued to fondle Jessie, reducing her to tears of pain and rage with his brutal handling. His flushed face and glittering eyes revealed how much he was enjoying himself.

  When the monster finally had enough of this sport, he stepped back and barked, “Seth, bring me the whip.”

  Fresh terror swept through her. “May ye rot in hell for this!” she choked out.

  Blake raised a mocking eyebrow. “I’ve lived in hell, so don’t think to intimidate me with your feeble curses.”

  Staring at the braided leather quirt Seth handed him, Jessie found it difficult to breathe. Cold sweat bathed her body; she trembled violently. In desperation, she sought David’s tortured gaze, drawing strength from him and willing him to see the love in her eyes. For his sake, she retorted, “No matter what ye do to my body, ye can’t touch
what’s in my heart, ye vile, crawling thing!” And, gathering what little saliva she could find, she spat in Blake’s face.

  He growled and backhanded her across the mouth, drawing a cry from her throat and making her eyes water. “Strip the bitch!” he shrilled insanely.

  “Yes sir!” Seth drew his knife and stalked toward Jessie.

  Lifting her chin, she pressed her stinging lips together and glared at him, trying to shut out the sound of David’s fury.

  A rifle shot cracked from the corral behind her. Jumping, she gave a startled gasp and saw Seth lurch to a halt, throat torn open by a bullet. He made a horrible gurgling noise, dropped his knife and toppled to the ground, clutching his ruined throat.

  “Noo!” Blake howled furiously.

  Jessie stared in shock at the dying outlaw, seeing him writhe in agony, blood spurting between his fingers. After what seemed like forever but must have been mere seconds, he went still. Only then did she register the shots ringing in her ears, some from the corral, others from the near side of the barn, to her left. At her feet, Blake hugged the ground.

  The other outlaws had flung aside their torches and were returning fire as they ran for cover. One screamed in pain before he could reach the hay wagon that stood outside the far corner of the corral. Seeing him collapse, Jessie realized dawn was near. The gray, ghostly light gave her a sense of unreality, but the feeling ended when a bullet whizzed past her head.

  The trapped ranch hands burst from the bunkhouse, adding their guns to those of the newcomers, whoever they were.

  “Spread out, boys, and don’t let any of those curly wolves get away!” a man shouted from the shadows beside the barn.

  Jessie recognized Jeb Crawford’s voice. Ignoring the chaos of flying bullets and gun smoke around her, she closed her eyes and said a fervent thank you for this unexpected answer to her prayers.

  David was profoundly grateful for the Crawfords’ arrival, but he was also mortally afraid for Jessie. His fear took a sharper turn when he saw Stanton climb to his feet with a knife in his hand. Jessie screamed as he raised the knife.