Stella vanished into the darkness and Halle hugged Max tight, feeling a cold chill settle in the room. Her stomach did a flip flop at the thought of having to face Elena Costanza again. Would the madam suspect she and Antonio had become lovers? Would she imprison her at the house and then turn her in to Cole?
Faced with only one choice and too many variables, she let out an exasperated breath. Perhaps she could outsmart Elena, or better yet, slip into the brothel undetected and retrieve the hidden cash.
“Max, did you hear what Stella said? We have to convince Antonio to take us back to Albuquerque.” Well, she’d just have to play this one by ear. Wasn’t that what she’d been doing these past months anyway?
For now, she would pray that Antonio and his men would safely free all of them. But in the mean time, she had to cook up a plan to get him to go back to Albuquerque.
* * * * *
The next evening, Colonel Simmons sat across the roughly hewn log table from Halle, grumbling as he sawed through the tough slab of charred beef steak set before him by Conchita, the fort’s cook. Halle stared at the burly pig of a man, half wishing he’d choke on a bite of the tasteless, unchewable meat. After what she witnessed—the manhandling of women and the colonel ignoring his soldiers abuse—she despised him.
Her empty stomach rumbled and her gaze dropped to the rock hard biscuit on her plate. Three days old, she guessed. Maybe more since it had green mold. She’d long lost her appetite, although she supposed that being in the company of an abusive rat bastard had a way of doing that to a person.
She’d slipped her hunk of steak to Max beneath the table, who passed on the dubious treat and decided to wallow on it instead.
As a ‘guest’ at Fort Dennison for four days, they’d given her private quarters and three unpalatable meals a day. Iron bars blocked the windows and her room was kept locked, a guard posted outside her door around the clock.
Her heart was too heavy to think of herself. She had witnessed the women and children tied together by ropes and marched on foot to one makeshift camp before being loaded in wagons and brought here. Some were beaten for not being able to understand the soldier’s command. She’d also heard that two young men not much older than sixteen had been shot.
She wondered where Antonio was, if he were also here, imprisoned, or if he had already been killed. She couldn’t bear the thought he might be dead and forced the thought aside. Her only desire now was to escape and find Antonio and the children—Lukachukai, Tani and Diego.
Soldiers hadn’t questioned her about Antonio, and only inquired about her treatment while with the Navajo. She told them The People had treated her well, that the women had taken her in and fed and clothed her. No one had specifically asked if she’d been molested, although she suspected they believed she had. She dared not mention Antonio’s name, although sooner or later she figured the Colonel might approach the subject.
Tonight, she had been requested to dine with Colonel Simmons. She feared he suspected her involvement with Antonio, and was hoping to extract information over dinner. Earlier that day, the Colonel presented her with a low cut baby blue gown with ostrich feathers at the neck, sparkling, tear drop earrings, and white kid skin slippers with a gold toe—all used, of course. An odd-looking ensemble and one she suspected might have come from either a prostitute or a traveling singer. He’d instructed one of the maids to destroy her beautifully woven Navajo blanket dress and intricately beaded doe skin moccasins, all gifts from Antonio’s family.
“The dress I selected is most becoming on you, Miss Brannigan,” Colonel Simmons picked at his teeth with a dirty fingernail. “Do you approve of my selection?”
She didn’t. It was itchy and reeked of another woman’s sweat and perfume, but she nodded politely anyway thinking it was best to play the part of a grateful guest. Actually, the low-cut bodice was much too revealing for her taste and the slippers nearly a size too small.
The Colonel speared a chunk of meat with his fork and popped it into his mouth. “I sent a telegram to your uncle in Union City informing him of your rescue from the savages,” he mumbled as he chewed a mouthful of food. “Yesterday, he sent word back that he will be arriving on the next stage in a day or two.”
Icy fear gripped her at the thought of Frank Cole’s arrival. The room grew warm and stuffy and the beans she’d eaten earlier in the day bubbled gaseously in her gut.
“I assured your uncle you had not been harmed,” the Colonel rambled on, adding, “and you were quite fortunate we found you this soon, Miss Brannigan. In fact, I can recall one particular incident where a woman was returned to her white family several years after her capture by the savages with her two little half-breed children in tow and another one on the way.”
Halle felt like dumping her plate of food in his lap. Bigoted jerk. He had lumped all Indian tribes into one category and culture, that of the predatory savage. She had been well-treated and cared for by the Navajo and no man—no Indian man that is, had treated her inappropriately. She couldn’t say that for white men, considering the way the Colonel kept eyeing her breasts.
“Do you speak French, Miss Brannigan?”
Halle froze. What an odd question. Why would he assume she did? “No. I don’t speak French.”
“I only inquired because you look French, my dear, with your striking features and dusky coloration. When I was a younger, I knew a lovely Creole woman in New Orleans—an Antoinette De Vries. At one time I aspired to marry her but dear Antoinette had been promised to another. Her parents ran a small hotel on Bienville Street in the Vieux Carre.”
Was the Colonel making casual conversation, or fishing for information? The hair prickled on Halle’s neck and arms. No, he was on to something. Did the Colonel suspect she was black? That would certainly explain his odd line of questioning. It would also put her in a dangerous position, both legally and socially. “Um, yeah,” she fudged. “I was born in New Orleans, not far from Bienville Street.” She shocked herself with the ease of which she could lie when her life depended on it.
The Colonel had been about to place another bite of food in his mouth, when he stopped. “And you don’t speak a word of French? I find that most difficult to believe if you grew up in the quarters.”
It wasn’t entirely true. She only knew precisely one phrase in French, a line from Patti LaBelle’s famous song about a New Orleans’s hooker, Lady Marmalade—“voulez vous coucher avec moi?” or “do you want to go to bed with me?”
And that line was definitely out.
“Um…we moved away when I was a baby.”
His eyes narrowed on her, his gaze slowly dipping to her cleavage. “Is that so?”
With the sleeve of her dress, she daubed at the cold sweat beading up on her forehead. She was about to be caught in a lie. She sensed it in the way he kept eyeing her, in the tone of his voice. He knew more than he let on. Her stomach churned and she squirmed in the hard, uncomfortable chair.
“I think I’m going to be sick.” She swallowed the backwash of food and acid in her throat. Max jumped into her lap and sniffed her chin. It’s all right little guy. I’m just queasy.”
The Colonel rose from his chair. “Perhaps you should retire for the evening.”
“Yep, I’m going to puke,” she whispered, unable to stand on her own. It was the truth. Was something wrong with the food?
The Colonel made a face and rounded the table. Without warning he lifted both Halle and Max into his arms, carrying her from the dining hall and out onto a wooden walkway. He rounded the corner and she realized he was taking her back to her quarters instead of the infirmary. Soldiers stepped aside to let them pass, and although Halle detested touching the man, she clung to him, her arms around his neck as nausea rolled through her insides again.
As they entered her room she caught a flash of movement behind the Colonel.
Antonio.
She lifted her eyes to the colonel’s as a shadowy figure darted behind them and disappeared into the
night. She had to distract the Colonel, and fast.
Colonel Simmons laid her on the bed, then strode over to the door. Holy crap! She had to stop him!
“Colonel!”
He paused, turned around. “Yes, Miss Brannigan?”
“Stay…please.” Halle gave him her most seductive smile.
The Colonel lifted a brow, then his lips curled into a smile. “Oh, I had certainly planned to stay, Miss Brannigan,” he said, latching the door. “Unless, of course, I make you… uncomfortable.”
Halle batted her eyes innocently, though in reality she was ready to crap a brick. “You are a good and decent man and I know you would do nothing improper. Why, I think of you like an older cousin.” She watch the encouragement flare in his eyes. “You are a true gentleman, and I feel completely safe in your company.”
Of course she’d lied to save Antonio’s life. She hadn’t missed the way he’d been ogling her throughout dinner, his eyes fixing every so often on her breasts. Still, she felt she had no other choice but to create a distraction. She made doe eyes at him again. “I need to speak with you about something important.”
He gave a resigned sigh. “Very well. Would you like a drink of water? Whiskey perhaps, or does a proper lady such as yourself imbibe?”
Halle swallowed hard as a shadowy figure passed outside the window. She had to divert his attention and fast. “Um, I don’t drink, but water would be nice.”
He poured her a cup of water from a crockery pitcher, then took a flask out of the inside of his coat and took a long swig before seating himself on the edge of the bed. She sipped the cool drink, her mind racing. Damn, but she was in a fix.
“You have my unwavering attention.”
Halle mustered up her most pitiful puppy dog face. “Please don’t send me back to my uncle. I beg of you. Oh, please! I shan’t survive such!”
His brows knitted together. Okay, maybe it was best she toned down the theatrics.
“Miss Brannigan, I cannot prevent your uncle from taking you home. He is your only living relative.”
“But he beats me,” she whispered tearfully, turning up the drama a notch. “I’m afraid he will hurt me again.”
Without warning the Colonel reached across and pulled her into his lap. A bit of water sloshed onto her dress and onto his pant leg. There was no mistaking his intent for his smoldering eyes said everything.
Halle sucked in a breath, afraid to breathe. He gingerly took the tin cup from her hand and set it aside. “You ran away from Union City, did you not?”
She nodded, in agreement, although she knew that Hope Brannigan had been abducted at Frank Cole’s request and her body dumped in the canyon.
“Was it because your uncle forced himself upon you?” The colonel lifted her chin a bit with his forefinger. “Hmmm?”
Her eyes never left his. “N-no.”
His jaw twitched. “You must forgive me for asking, Miss Brannigan, but I have wondered about something since your arrival here. Did any of the Indian men take liberties while you while you were in captivity?”
“Um…no. Of course not.”
His fingertip skimmed downward over her throat, gliding down to the top button on the bodice of the dress. He popped it open.
Halle’s breath hitched in her throat, stunned by the man’s bold move but she offered no resistance. When the tip of his warm finger slipped between her cleavage she went stone still, her gaze never leaving his. She had, after all, begun this flirtatious game and would have to see it through in order to distract him long enough for Antonio to make his move.
Her heart pounded in her chest as the next button flicked open, followed by the second. Her first instinct was to bolt, but that would not give Antonio the advantage. How far would she have to go? She shuddered inwardly at the thought.
A smile tilted the corners of his mouth. “You’re quite lovely with dark, sultry eyes that can turn a man weak with desire.” Without warning he reached inside her dress and grasped a breast.
“You asshole!” Halle wrenched away. She kicked at his head and tried to roll off the bed but he pounced on her back, subduing her with a knee to the spine. Oh, God, but she felt as though her back might snap in half at any moment. At a definite disadvantage, she relaxed. Maybe she could sweet talk him again.
“Okay, I’m sorry,” she said in her kindest voice. “I’ll be good. Real good. I’ll do anything, Colonel. Anything. Please…just…don’t hurt me.”
A moment later, he let up, then flipped her onto her back.
His feral eyes pinned her as he ripped open the front of her dress, sending a shower of tiny buttons scattering in all directions. He eyed her like a hungry dog.
A frightening scenario unfolded in her mind’s eye as he lowered his lips to hers. She swallowed the hard lump of fear, pursed her lips together to thwart his tongue’s invasion. Her first instinct was to grab the bastard by the balls and twist them off, but fear for Antonio’s safety and the other men won out. Fighting back tears, her lips parted in submission. At least he’d be distracted while Antonio went about the task of freeing the women and children. If she fought or screamed, the commotion might alert someone to the fact the fort had been invaded.
His tongue thrust inside and she went stone still, enduring his punishing kiss. His hands ravaged her breasts, squeezing and pinching he nipples until she thought she might pass out.
Moments later, his mouth left hers. His eyes were wild, his breathing heavy and erratic although he continued his assult on her, smiling as he caused her pain. He dipped his head to nuzzle a breast. Then he grasped it painfully and twisted again. Oh, God! She fought down a sob as the world threatened to go black. His torture continued for several seconds. So he enjoyed hurting her, frightening her with his brute strength? She wouldn’t give the bastard the satisfaction of knowing how he’d hurt her.
“You are an incredible little liar,” he whispered against her ear. “Quite the actress.”
She didn’t know what possessed her but she inclined her face to his and bit his cheek. With a string of curse words he released her. She scrambled off the bed, backing up against the wall. He leapt from the bed and yanked her arm with force, hauling her up against him.
“Don’t you think I know who and what you are?” He gripped her shoulders and gave her a violent shake. ”You are Whitehorse’s whore!”
He reared back and dealt her a blow across the face which sent her sprawling on the floor. Incredible pain rocketed through her cheek and nose. Oh, damn. She touched her fingertips to her bloodied nose. Had the son of a bitch broken it? Warm blood trickled over her upper lip. The metallic taste filled her mouth. She prayed he hadn’t knocked a tooth loose. Wiping the blood from her face with her sleeve, she dared a glance up at him.
Max laid into the man, barking and snarling, tearing at his pants leg.
“Don’t lie to me!” He kicked Max, who yelped in pain and scrambled under the bed. “My men saw you rutting with that outlaw.”
It took all her willpower not to stand up and kick him in the balls, but she figured this bully could break her face with one punch if he wanted. He grasped her by the hair and forced her head back. “Did Whitehorse rape you?”
“Hell no! He’s my lover.” As a final insult she added, “And I support his cause to save the Navajo, you disgusting pig bastard!”
She fully expected him to beat the crap out of her, but instead, he released his grip.
“You will make a full confession in your own handwriting of your participation in that Indian’s crimes before you stand trial. Then, you will tell me precisely where Whitehorse has hidden weapons, as well as all his known hide-outs. I suspect you will be hanged alongside your outlaw lover. At the very least imprisoned for the rest of your days.”
Clutching the front of the dress shut, Halle got to her knees. “Do what you want with me, but first you are going to make a full written confession that you assaulted me. How’s that going to look in the history books a hundred years from
now?”
Without answering, he quickly strode to the door. Now what was he going to do? Call in some of his goons to slap her around, or fondle her? And just where in the hell was Antonio?
Blood dripped from her nose onto the floor’s wood planks. She lifted the hem of her skirt and blotted her nose. The colonel opened the door and yelled for his secretary to bring paper and pen, then turned around, his eyes fixing upon her. He smoothed out his wrinkled uniform with his hands, then started to speak, but his expression changed. No sound came out of his mouth. Max limped out from beneath the bed where he’d been hiding and snarled in the direction of the doorway.
Then she saw it, the bright red stain blossoming in the center of the colonel’s gut. The tip of what appeared to be a silver blade had poked through his chest. He’d been speared through the back! He took two staggered steps toward her. Bright droplets of blood dripped on the floor behind him. Simmons slumped to his knees as Antonio charged into the room.
Simmons stared up at Antonio. Blood oozed from the corners of his mouth. “White...horse,” he choked out.
“So nice you remembered my name Colonel. Now, I want you to memorize my face.”
“Kill me now—finish me.”
Antonio reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a handkerchief for Halle. “Why I should deprive you of the experience of knowing what it feels like to have a lance thrust through your body? Did you or your men give such concern to innocent women and children when you instructed them to be slaughtered at Fort Darcy two years ago?”
Colonel Simmons coughed. Copious amounts of blood trickled from his mouth.
“I fear—” He coughed again. “You do not realize the consequences of your actions.”
Ride The Wild Wind (Time Travel Historical Romance) Page 27
