by Linda Broday
Just then, the door swung open. The meanest man she’d ever seen stood there. The lantern in his hand lit his features and made her curl against the wall. His hideous face seemed to have melted at one time, probably in a horrific fire. Even the shadows of his scars terrified her.
“So nice of you to join us, chica. It’s time to start jogging this memory of yours.”
Thirty-eight
Sierra shrank against the wall as the outlaw stole toward her like a panther. His scarred face terrified her. When a smile curved his mouth, she trembled. Ruthless men smiled right before they hurt you.
Whatever he meant to do, she would show no fear.
He jerked her up by the hair. Though her eyes smarted from the pain, she refused to cry out.
“You call me Bardo.” He pulled her face to his. His breath reeked, nearly knocking her down. Then he stuck out his tongue and licked her cheek. “We’re going to get acquainted. And before I’m done, you’ll give me what I want.”
“Leave her alone!” Rocky yelled. “Take me instead.”
“Shut up, gringo. You don’t have the right…smell.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you.” Though Sierra’s legs quaked, she knew she had to stand tall. “I’ve seen your kind. You’re nothing but a bully. I’m not afraid of you.”
Bardo’s eyes darkened. “You will know fear when I’m done.”
“You’re awfully brave when you’re facing a bound woman. But when it’s a man like Sam Legend, you run like a scared child.” She didn’t back down from him, though he struck such terror into her she could scarcely breathe.
“You know nothing, chica.” His face darkened with fury. “I hanged Sam Legend once, and I’ll do it again. This time I’ll make sure he dies.”
Stillness washed over her. This was the rustler who’d tried to end Sam’s life. And if Sam was alive, he was coming. She had to warn him before it was too late.
“Hanging someone isn’t a sign of bravery. I hope he kills you and feeds your rotten body to the buzzards.”
The outlaw drew back and slapped her, whipping her head around. He grabbed the front of her dress and ripped it open. Clutching a handful of her chemise, he pulled her out the door and down a hallway to another room and kicked open the door.
“You’re going to beg for mercy. And when you do, I’ll cut your tongue out.” He flung her onto a dirty mattress.
Sierra’s heart pounded with sheer terror. She would not get out of this room alive.
When Bardo hovered over her, she spat in his face. It splattered his cheek and ran toward his jaw.
“You’re going to be very, very sorry for that,” he said softly. “After I’m done with you…if you’re still alive…I’m going to let my men have you. You’ve never seen a woman after they finish with her.”
The door squeaked. A throat cleared, and Isaac Ford spoke. “Boss, we have a visitor.”
“I’m busy,” Bardo growled.
“You’re going to want to see this one,” the man insisted. “He says he has it.”
A gleam shone in Bardo’s eyes. He cruelly squeezed Sierra’s breasts. It took every bit of willpower not to cry out. He yanked her up and into him, digging his fingers into her buttocks.
Bardo sighed. “We must delay my pleasure, chica. A bit of business, and then I’ll show you how a real man takes a woman.”
He dragged her back to the room where Rocky was, shoving her to the floor so hard her head slammed against the rough boards, and she saw stars. Bardo jerked up the lantern and left with Ford. She heard the padlock on the outside snap shut.
Again in darkness, Sierra trembled. Felix Bardo was ten times worse than Ford. Her cheek was still wet from his tongue, and she hurt all over.
“Sierra?” Rocky said. “Are you okay?”
She didn’t answer.
This outlaw loved to inflict pain. It seemed to feed some kind of twisted, demented need inside him.
Dread of his return brought shivers.
No one could help her.
A tear rolled down her cheek. Even if he had survived the attack, she’d never see Sam again.
* * *
Sam jumped off the wagon before it stopped at the corral and raced to his horse that one of the cowboys had already saddled, with his father and Houston behind.
Ranch hands had mounted up, waiting for orders.
Stoker stuck his foot in the stirrup. “Are you sure you’re up to this, Sam?”
“Let’s go.” Sam bit his tongue to hold back a groan of pain and pulled himself into the saddle, biting his tongue to hold back the groan of pain. He met his brother’s and father’s eyes and nodded. Silent and grim, they galloped toward the crossbar.
With the three Legends leading about two dozen ranch hands, they rode in pitch black toward Lost Point.
A muscle worked in Sam’s jaw. He wouldn’t return without Sierra. And for those who hurt her…
This would be a day of reckoning.
His thoughts swept to their lovemaking a few hours ago. He wished he’d said the words that had sat in his heart.
He loved her. He did with all his heart and soul. But dammit, he hadn’t told her, and now he might never get a second chance. His eyes filled with tears. If, by some way, they survived this, he’d change.
Whatever he had to do, he’d make it work, even if it meant giving up the Texas Rangers, something he never thought would happen. But she meant far more to him than his damn job. He wouldn’t be a part-time husband. Sierra deserved a whole life.
If Bardo or Luke or anyone killed her—God have mercy on their soul.
His eyes narrowed as he tried to see through the black of early morning. He didn’t think Luke would harm the woman he called dulce. But then, Sam never thought he’d join forces with those against them either.
Luke Weston had more darkness in his soul than Sam had known. Maybe no one could save an outlaw like him. When that black demon took over, some men couldn’t fight it. It was too strong.
The time would come when Sam would kill him. He’d have to.
Maybe that time would come today.
To kill the bad in him, he’d also have to kill the good.
When it came, Sam would will his finger to pull the trigger. It wouldn’t mean the brotherly love he felt would die. That would always be there. Even as darkness had taken root in Luke, love for his brother would always be there in Sam’s heart.
Sam glanced at Houston riding beside him. Though they’d fought and had words, Sam had always loved him. And Stoker. They were family and blood.
That was something Luke had never known. Or Sierra.
Filled with deep sorrow, Sam shook his head and focused on the task ahead. Today, Sierra would know how it felt to have someone fight for her.
* * *
Sierra was grateful the outlaws hadn’t stuck a gag in her mouth. She and Rocky talked for a while about everything that had happened since Waco.
“The outlaws first took me to Hell’s Half Acre in Fort Worth, where we waited for Felix Bardo,” Rocky said. “They fed me little, because they stayed drunk. I managed to get away for a short time until they caught me. After that, the beatings started. Things got even worse when Bardo arrived. He thrives on violence. He brought me here to Lost Point.”
The picture Rocky painted sent a shudder through her. Bardo had no conscience or soul.
“Sister, I wish I could protect you from him. When he comes back, don’t fight, because that only makes him crazier. There’s no telling what he’ll do. To me or to you.”
“Rocky, I can’t just lie there and not fight back,” she whispered. “It’s not in me.”
A key worked the lock on the door. When it swung open, shock ran the length of her.
William Hunt filled the space.
Ford shoved her father inside. “
Thought you might have family stuff to catch up on, Hunt. Before Bardo kills them, you get to watch your son and daughter suffer.” Ford’s sinister laugh brought chills.
Before the outlaw left with the light, Sierra took in her father’s haggard appearance and the blood oozing from his mouth. No one spoke as Ford removed her father’s shoes and checked the ropes binding him. William Hunt stared straight ahead with cold eyes.
Ford gave them a snarl, picked up the lantern, and left.
Why didn’t her father speak?
Silence had to mean she was still dead to him. Her heart ached. But still, she had to try. “Father? Are you all right?” she asked.
He was quiet for so long that she thought he wouldn’t answer. Then he cleared his throat. “Don’t worry about me.” William Hunt’s low voice grated in the darkness. He sounded tired. “The thing is…I don’t know what to say, Sierra. I’m the reason these men took Rocky and you. The reason they’ve been chasing after you.”
His words chilled her. “I don’t understand. Do you know them?”
“No, but I set them on your trail.” William’s voice cracked. “I…uh…” He cleared his throat. “I told them you took the map they want.”
“Why?” She wanted to cry, the gut-wrenching sorrow seeping down into her bones. Had he truly hated her so much?
“I tried to save my own skin. When they showed up in my camp, looking for the map, I knew they’d hurt or kill me if I didn’t give them something. I told them you and Rocky had taken it.” Her father’s voice held remorse and pain. Too little, too late. “After I realized what I’d done, I boarded the first train to Texas.” William Hunt sobbed. “I’m sorry, Sierra. I never meant to cause this. My anger took over.”
Her brother spoke. “How did you know where we were?”
“A woman in Waco came to the newspaper office and said you’d both been taken by a rough bunch of men, but she didn’t know anything more.” William Hunt took a deep breath. “I went to the saloon, looking for more information, and overheard two men talking about you. Then one told the other that they’d been ordered to hurry here to Lost Point.”
“Texas is a big state,” Sierra said dryly, not believing. “How did you know which direction to go?”
“I followed the men for a good ways but lost them when I stopped to catch an hour or two of sleep. After that, I asked for directions in the towns I went through.”
“I’m glad you came.” Her brother’s voice held relief. “Maybe now they’ll let us go.”
“Is it too much to ask for forgiveness?” her father asked.
She hesitated, unsure if she could forgive the hateful words and actions. The way he’d pulled them into this mess. How could a parent do that to his children?
How could a father say those hurtful things that had destroyed his daughter’s self-worth? Sierra huddled in the quiet. She would withhold judgment.
At last Rocky spoke up. “I forgive you, Father.”
Not trusting herself to speak, Sierra kept silent.
“He seems genuinely sorry, Sierra,” Rocky said. “He’s suffered.”
William Hunt had suffered? That was laughable.
When she spoke, her words were hard, and she offered no apology. “Did you bring the map, Father? Or did you leave it in a safe place to go for later after they’ve killed me and Rocky?”
She had no kindness left for the man who’d thrown her away like a piece of garbage.
None.
“I deserve that,” her father said. “And more. I lost the original map and have been looking for it for a very long time. I realized that these men wouldn’t know, so I drew another one and smudged it up to make it look old. That’s what I gave them now, hoping to spare your lives.”
Nothing would change the minds of their captors. Their fate was sealed. These weren’t men who would allow witnesses to live. Bardo, Ford, and the others would do as they wished with them.
“What did the map go to, Father?” Rocky asked. “You never said.”
“Confederate gold that a friend sent me to bury thirteen years ago. I dug a hole along Trammel’s Trace, not far from Stephenson’s Ferry. The heavily wooded area provided the perfect place.”
“How much do you think the gold’s worth?”
“More than you or I combined will ever see in this lifetime. It would’ve made such a difference in our lives. I had to struggle to get the box from the mule into the hole. Never saw anything so heavy. Must’ve weighed a ton.”
Sierra searched for some memory. “When did you come back to Texas to do this? I never knew you left the mountains.”
“You were only six years old, Sierra. Rocky was ten. I was gone most of the time anyway, so you wouldn’t have known. I didn’t even tell your mother that month I was away.”
His words bore truth. Memories of those years crowded Sierra’s mind. Little food except what they could scrounge, a dark cave for a home, cold nights when she huddled next to Whitney and her brothers to keep warm. They’d lived no better than wild animals.
All while her father had a fortune in gold hidden.
Tired of it all, Sierra struggled against the ropes, but they wouldn’t give. They cut into her, bringing pain. She felt the blood running down her wrist and pooling in her palm.
Panic made her heart race. Felix Bardo would come soon.
Despite her brother’s plea not to fight, Sierra knew she would. She would die fighting, just like Sam would. Looked like she was a ranger’s woman after all. “Rocky, try once more to loosen your ropes.”
“Mine don’t seem to be too awfully tight,” her father volunteered.
If only one could get free, they could untie the others, jump anyone who came through the door, and hopefully escape. Only she didn’t know how far she could trust her father. He’d betrayed them once to save himself. He’d probably do it again.
Were he to get out from his ropes, he’d escape and leave his children behind.
She tried to stick her bare feet under her dress to warm them.
“Try to get some sleep,” William Hunt said. “Save your strength for later.”
Right. The only thing she’d save for him would be contempt.
“Do you think your friends might come to rescue us?” her father had the audacity to ask.
She’d seen Luke riding with the outlaws. He hadn’t even looked at her, much less tried to intervene on her behalf. It left her with the realization he’d joined them. The intense betrayal and hurt in her heart made her physically ill. This would kill Sam—if he was alive.
She thought of Stoker and Houston. Even if Sam had died trying to save her, they’d come. They had backbones of steel and more heart than she’d ever seen in a family. Nothing but death would stop the men of Legend.
Thirty-nine
An hour west of the Lone Star, Sam and the riders reached Lost Point.
Sam dismounted behind a cluster of scrub oak and mesquite and joined his father and Houston. “They’ll put a bullet in Sierra’s head the minute they see us. Let me go in alone and see if Bardo has her here or out at his other location. It might save us time and needless spilled blood.”
“We’re coming with you.” Stoker’s bullish eyes met his.
Houston planted his feet. “You’re not up to doing much fighting. We can help.”
“Look, one man can slip in and out quietly. If they hear anything or get suspicious we’re near, they’ll kill her.” The thought of holding her lifeless body in his arms stopped Sam’s heart. “Please, I beg you, let me do this alone.”
Stoker placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “All right, son. Do it your way. But if I hear any shooting, I’m coming in with guns blazing.”
“If that happens, Pa, I pray you hear it.” Sam allowed his mouth to twitch. “Once I know where she is, I’ll make my way back.”
“I’l
l give you twenty minutes.” Houston opened his watch and struck a match to check the time. “That’s all. I just hope I run into our traitor brother. I’ll let my Colt do the talking.”
“Hell, if Luke has gone bad, I’ll shoot him myself,” Stoker said grimly.
Sam gave a nod. “I’d give anything to be wrong about him.”
Now he knew where Luke had been going when he rode out at night. No doubt he’d been in cahoots with the low-down bunch the whole damn time.
“One other thing—a big favor, Pa. Hector is all alone in the world. I’m not saying it will, but if something happens to me or Sierra, give him a home. And love.”
His father cleared his throat and blinked. “You got it.”
Without more, he silently slipped from behind the scrub oak. If Sierra was there, they’d have lookouts posted. No lookouts would mean this wasn’t where they kept the captives.
This dry area of Texas had precious little vegetation, so not much to offer in the way of cover. Scrawny clumps of scrub oak, mesquite, and juniper wouldn’t hide much.
He tried to avoid the low brush that could scrape his trouser legs and make noise, but the darkness made it difficult.
The rocky ground posed a special problem. Loosen a rock or let his heel scrape one, and his careful approach would be for naught.
Sweat rose on Sam’s forehead as he crept along. Daylight would come soon, but he needed every possible second of darkness to cover him.
His sharp focus was all that stood between Sierra and death. He scanned every bush, mesquite, and gully. When a noise came off to the right, he froze and pointed his Colt. A harmless jackrabbit hopped from a thick mass of sagebrush and broomweed. Sam kept moving, silent and deadly.
The buildings rose up on the main street ahead.
He noticed the lookouts just in time. Odd that they hadn’t been there the day before. But they didn’t have Sierra then. They now knew the Legends were coming to get her.
Sam ducked behind some thick juniper and peered through the branches, paying no mind to the sharp needles sticking him. He’d come to the right place. Sierra was here.
