The well on the north end was visible for miles—as was everything around it. If anyone followed him to offer assistance, whoever waited at the well would see him.
If Dallas held his silence, told no one about the ransom note, brought no one with him …
He sighed heavily. He’d probably viewed his last sunset, already regretting that he hadn’t taken the time to appreciate it, for he had little doubt that a bullet would be waiting for him beside the well.
Dallas pounded on the door until the hinges rattled.
The door opened slightly, and Henderson peered out into the darkness. “Good God, Dallas, your wife didn’t ask for a loan today.”
“I know that. I need a thousand dollars—cash.”
“Come see me at eight when I open the bank.”
He started to close the door, and Dallas slammed his hand against it. “Now. I need it now.”
“For what?”
“Business. You can charge me double the interest on it.”
Henderson scurried outside, and Dallas followed him down the steps. As Henderson fumbled with the keys, Dallas refrained from grabbing them and shoving them into the locks himself.
When Henderson turned the key on the last lock, he glanced over his shoulder at Dallas. “You stay here while I get the money.”
Nodding, Dallas handed him the saddlebag. “Make sure it’s exact.”
As Henderson disappeared into the building, Dallas walked to the edge of the boardwalk and gazed toward the end of town where Dee’s hotel stood before turning his attention to the sheriff’s office. He toyed with the idea of waking the sheriff as well, of explaining the situation to him in case Dee didn’t return home tomorrow. But if Cooper didn’t release Dee, what difference would anyone knowing make? None at all.
He glanced back at the hotel, and the pride swelled within him. The Grand Hotel. She had envisioned it and turned it into reality. He couldn’t remember if he’d ever told her how proud he was to have had her at his side.
For a man who thought he’d lived his life by side-stepping regrets, he suddenly discovered that he had left a great many things undone.
Dallas arrived at the well an hour before the sun shone directly overhead. The windmill clattered as the slight breeze blew across the plains. He shifted his backside over his saddle and waited.
He loved the land, the openness of it, the way it beckoned to a man. If treated right, the land returned the favor, but it couldn’t curl against a man in the dead of night. It wouldn’t warm his feet in the middle of winter.
He saw the solitary rider approaching. He wasn’t surprised that the exchange wasn’t going to take place here. Still he had hoped.
The man who neared wasn’t Cooper. Dallas had never seen the burly man before, and he hoped to never see him again.
“You got the money?” the man asked through a mouth of missing and rotting teeth.
“Yep. Where’s my wife?”
“At the camp.” The man held out a black cloth. “Put this on.”
Dallas snatched the cloth from the grimy fingers and bound it over his eyes. He wasn’t a man accustomed to playing by another’s rules, but he had no choice. He’d do whatever it took to keep Dee alive.
She’d lost their child because he’d thrown caution to the wind. He didn’t intend to be as careless this time.
The dark material muted the afternoon sun’s blinding rays, but Dallas used the intensity of the light to measure the passing of the day, to gauge the direction that they traveled: west, toward the sunset.
After what seemed hours, Satan stumbled to a stop.
“You can remove the mask now,” his captor said.
Dallas jerked off the foul-smelling cloth. His eyes needed little time to adjust as dusk was settling inside the small canyon.
His gaze quickly swept the area, registering the dangers, the risks. the terror in Dee’s eyes as she stood with her back against a tree, her arms raised, her hands tied with coarse rope to the branch hanging over her head.
Dallas dismounted, grabbed the saddlebags, and strode toward Cooper, ignoring the man’s knowing smirk, unable to ignore the whip he was trailing in the dust like the limp tail of a rattlesnake.
“Cut her loose,” Dallas ordered as he neared the loathsome man who called himself Rawley’s father, sorry to discover that he’d left too much of the man’s face intact.
Cooper spit out a stream of tobacco juice. “Not till I got the money.”
Dallas slung the bags at Cooper’s feet and stalked toward Dee.
“Stop right there or Tobias will shoot her,” Cooper snarled.
Dallas spun around. A man standing to the right of Cooper had a rifle trained on Dee. The man who had brought Dallas to the camp had dismounted and snaked an arm around Rawley, holding him close against his side, a gun pressed to the boy’s temple. Dallas would have expected fear to be hovering within Rawley’s dark eyes. Instead they only held quiet resignation. Dallas tamped down his anger. “You’ve got the money. Let them go.”
Cooper chuckled. “This ain’t just about the money. This is about what I owe you.” He snapped the whip and the crack echoed through the canyon. “My face can’t even attract a whore after what you done to it. Hurts something fierce. Figure you could do with a little hurt yourself.” His lips spread into a smile that lit his eyes with anticipation. “How many lashes you think it would take to kill her?”
Dallas took a menacing step forward.
A rifle fired.
Dee screamed.
Dallas froze. He slowly glanced over his shoulder. Dee vigorously shook her head. He could see no blood, no pain etched over her face.
“Next time, Tobias won’t miss,” Cooper said.
Swallowing hard, Dallas turned his attention back to Cooper, deciding it was time to risk everything in order to gain all. “Kill her and you’ll never get the money.”
Cooper’s laughter echoed around the canyon as he kicked the saddlebags. “You damn fool. I’ve got the money.”
“Do you?” Dallas asked.
The laughter abruptly died as Cooper dropped to his knees and flung back the flaps on the saddlebags. Frantically, he pulled out paper. Pieces and pieces of blank paper. Fury reddened his face as he glared at the man who had escorted Dallas to the camp.
“Quinn, you fool, didn’t you look in the saddlebags before you brung him out here?”
“You didn’t tell me to look in the saddlebags. You just told me to bring him.”
Cooper glowered at Dallas. “Where’s the money?”
“In a safe place. All one thousand dollars, but you don’t get it until I know Dee is safe. She leaves with me now, and I’ll bring the money back to you. Give you my word.”
“Your word. You think I’m some kinda idiot? I ain’t letting her out of my sight until I’ve got the money, and you ain’t never leaving here alive.”
“Then we can handle this another way. Take her to town, let her check into the hotel. A man is waiting there, watching for her return. When he knows she’s safe, he’ll give you the money. Meanwhile, you’ll have me as insurance.”
Cooper narrowed his eyes. “Who is it? One of your brothers?” He rubbed his jaw. “Austin. It’s gotta be Austin.”
Dallas shook his head. “Nope. Figured you’d expect it to be one of my brothers. You’d never suspect this man.”
Cooper struggled to his feet, his knuckles turning white as he clenched the whip. “You’ll tell me who has the money, by God. You’ll tell me!”
With a quick flick of his wrist, he brought the whip back and snapped it. It whistled through the air. Dee gasped as it sliced through her skirt.
“Damn you!” Dallas roared.
“Tell me who it is,” Cooper yelled, “or I’ll whip her to death.”
When Cooper brought his arm back, Dallas raced across the expanse separating him from Dee. He pressed his body flush against hers, drawing in a hissing breath through his teeth as the whip bit into his back.
Reaching up, he fumbled with the knots in the rope.
“If you untie them ropes, Tobias will shoot her!”
Dallas stilled his hands. He’d never in his life asked or begged for anything. “Christ! You want me on my knees, crawling on my belly? I’ll do anything you want, just take her into town. Let her register for a room at the hotel. The man and the money are waiting for you.”
“So you say,” Cooper yelled. “The law’s probably waiting on me.”
Dallas heard the whistle and clenched his teeth, but he couldn’t stop his body from jerking when the whip sliced across his back. His shirt offered little protection against the razor-sharp tip, and he realized with sickening dread that he had lost his gamble. He’d hoped his change in the plans would have forced Cooper to honor his end of the bargain.
He wrapped his hands around Dee’s trembling fists, gasping when the lash hit him again.
“Move away,” she whispered hoarsely.
“No.” He slammed his eyes closed when the pain ripped through him. When he opened his eyes, tears hovered within hers. “Don’t you dare cry,” he growled through clenched teeth. “Don’t you dare give him that satisfaction.”
She nodded bravely, and he could see her blinking back her tears. Dear God, but he couldn’t have asked for a finer wife.
“You have to get away from here,” she said in a low voice as the whip tore into him. “One of my brothers paid him to kill you.”
“Figured it was something like that. That’s why … tried to force him to take you to town.” He lowered his trembling fingers to her soft cheek. “Keep the promise you made to me. my land …”
The pain intensified, drowning out his thoughts, his muscles quivering as the onslaught continued. He buried his face against her neck, her warmth, her sweet fragrance. He wanted to tell her something else, something important, but it hovered at the edge of the agony.
“I’m sorry,” slipped past his lips before the blackness engulfed him.
With the sputtering flame from the stub of a candle casting a fluttering glow over Dallas’s back, Cordelia tried to asses the damage.
She had removed what remained of his shirt, the blood-soaked strips that could not even serve as a bandage. Crimson rivulets of torn flesh and seeping blood criss-crossed his broad back. His trousers had grown black and stiff as the blood had flowed more freely with each strike of the lash.
Although unconscious, he groaned and clenched his fists. Her trembling fingers hovered over his tortured flesh. She didn’t know how to ease his pain, how to stop infection from settling in, although infection was the least of her worries. They intended to kill him, and with a sickening dread, she knew they intended for his death to be a slow, agonizing affair.
“Why did you come?” she whispered hoarsely as she brushed the black hair from his furrowed brow.
She stiffened as she heard a key go into the lock of the shed’s door. It opened and Cooper burst into the room. “He awake yet?”
Cordelia moved so her body partially covered the sight of Dallas’s back. “No.”
Cooper lumbered across the room and squatted beside Dallas. He grabbed his hair and jerked his head up. Dallas moaned, his eyes opening to narrow slits.
“Who has the money?” Cooper demanded.
“Go to hell.”
Cooper slammed Dallas’s head against the dirt floor. “I’m gonna take her into town tomorrow. If I don’t come back with the money, you’re gonna die a slow death. I spent time with the Indians, and I know how to keep a dead man screaming for days.”
He shoved himself to his feet.
“And if the money’s there,” Cordelia said, hating the plea she heard in her voice, “you’ll let him go.”
Cooper sneered at her. “If I get the money, then I’ll kill him quick. Like I said before, your brother paid me to kill him. I ain’t got no choice in the matter except to decide if he dies fast or slow. Now that decision is in his hands.”
He left the shack, slamming the door into place. Cordelia heard him lock the door. She leaned close to Dallas’s ear. “Does someone have the money?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“You’re safer … not knowing.” “I won’t leave you here.”
Grunting and groaning, he struggled to sit up, sweat beading his body, his muscles quivering with the strain. Roughly, he cradled her cheek and brought her face closer to his. “You will leave, dammit.”
“He’s going to kill you,” she whispered brokenly.
“Maybe.” He dropped his hand to the dirt. “Look, I think we’re here.”
In the dim light of the candle’s glow, she could see his hand trembling as he drew an X in the dirt.
“Well on north end.” Another X.
“The house.” X.
“Town.” He lifted his pain-filled gaze to hers. “Once you get into the hotel, wait in our room with the door locked until a man comes for you. He’ll say, ‘You hold my heart.’ Draw him a map. Go with him to the sheriff. There’s a chance they could get back here … in time.”
She knew from the resignation in his eyes that he thought the chances were slim. His face was a mask of agony as she laid her palm against his cheek. “Lie down. You need to save your strength. I’ll see if I can stop some of this bleeding.”
His breathing shallow, he stretched out beside her. She imagined each intake of breath was agony as his back expanded. She had no way to cauterize the gaping slashes. She tore off a strip of her petticoat and pressed it against the worst of his wounds, trying to stanch the seepage of glistening blood. The air hissed through his teeth.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to do.” She glanced at his face. His eyes were closed, his jaw clenched. She touched his cheek, realizing with gratitude that he had lost consciousness.
She trailed her fingers along his sides where the whip had sometimes slithered. The cuts were shallow and had stopped bleeding. She wanted to curl beside him, wrap her arms around him, and take away his pain.
She hadn’t planned to fall asleep, wasn’t certain when she had, but she awoke to a scratching at the door. The candle had gutted and the small shed was wrapped in darkness.
The scratching intensified, then she heard a click, and the door squeaked open on dry hinges. A small silhouette stood in the doorway.
“Miz Dee?”
Cordelia rose to her knees. “Rawley?”
He took a small step forward. “We gotta go.”
“Where’s your father?”
“They’re all passed out, drunk as skunks, but we gotta hurry.”
Cordelia shook Dallas’s shoulder. He groaned. She slapped his cheek, alarmed to find it so warm. “Dallas?” She slapped him again. “Dallas, wake up.”
Moaning, he grabbed her hand before she could hit him again.
“Rawley unlocked the door. We need to go.” She slipped her hands underneath his arms. “Help me. Come on. Get up.”
Slowly, laboriously, she got him to his feet. He draped an arm over her shoulder, and she wrapped her arm below his waist, trying to give him some support.
“Horses?” he whispered.
“They never took off the saddles,” Rawley rasped into the darkness. “But we gotta hurry. They’ll whip my butt if they wake up.”
They staggered into the night Cordelia didn’t know how Dallas managed to pull himself into the saddle, but he did.
Then they were galloping, galloping toward freedom.
Cordelia kept the map Dallas had drawn emblazoned in her mind, her gaze focused on the North Star he had shown her one night. She knew they were heading in the right direction, away from their captors, but she didn’t know exactly where the house was, or the town, or Houston’s home. They could all easily be missed with the vast expanse of land stretching out before them.
She had no way to gauge the time as the steady pounding of the hooves echoed over the plains. Rawley kept glancing back over his shoulder. She didn’t blame him. She had little doub
t his punishment would be severe if they were caught.
“Dee!”
She jerked her gaze around. Dallas was slouched over the saddle horn, his horse slowing to a trot. She brought her own horse to a stop and circled back as Satan staggered to a halt.
“Dallas?”
His breathing was shallow, his knuckles white as he gripped the saddle horn. “Tie me.” “What?”
“I’m close to passing out. If I fall, you won’t have the strength to get me back on this horse.” He struggled to loosen the rope from its place on his saddle. “I want you to tie me to the saddle so I can’t lose my seat.”
She glanced around. “Surely you can hold on a little while longer. We can’t be that far from home.”
“We have hours yet to ride.” A corner of his mouth tilted up. “That’s the problem with owning so much land. It takes forever to get home.”
Rawley had sidled his horse up against hers, his young face etched in worry.
Cordelia reached out, took his hand, and squeezed gently. “You keep a look out while I help Mr. Leigh. If you see riders coming, you ride fast and hard for town.”
He gave a quick nod and settled his anxious gaze in the direction from which they’d ridden. Cordelia dismounted, worked the rope free from the saddle, and glanced up at Dallas, the pain carved deeply into the creases of his face.
“What do I do?” she asked.
“Slip the rope beneath the legging of the saddle … wrap it around my leg … bring the rope up … loop it around my waist and the horn in a figure eight … take it to the other side, wrap it … secure my hands to the saddle horn … give me your word if something happens and I can’t ride … you’ll keep going.”
“No.”
“Dee—”
“No,” she insisted as she wound the rope around his leg and knotted it. “If you want me safe, then you’d best find a way to keep riding.”
“When did you … get so ornery?”
She knew it was unfair to ask so much of him when he was suffering as he was, but she’d be damned before she’d let him give up. She brought the rope up to his waist, careful not to let the rough hemp touch his bare back.
Texas Glory Page 27
