Passion's Fury

by Patricia Hagan

He looked about him at the rolling hills. Along the road, beside the thick growth of firs, he could see honeysuckle blooming, and plums and blackberries. Beyond, in the distance, balsam forests trailed upward to mountains that tried to kiss the sky. He loved the Alabama land. He once heard an old man say that the state was so pretty God must have spent a few extra hours on creation day to make Alabama extra beautiful.

  Rounding a bend, they crossed a rickety plank bridge built over a rolling, silver stream. They were in a valley, and Rance drank in the sweetness of the cool air here. Tranquil. Peaceful. It was hard to imagine a war near here.

  Suddenly, he sat upright in the saddle. Something was wrong. Virtus also noticed, his ears twitching slightly as he lifted his nose to the wind.

  He spoke Edward’s name, and the man behind him was instantly alert. The two had not traveled the wilderness without learning to sense danger.

  Edward knew better than to make a sound. His hand, like Rance’s, moved slowly to his sidearm.

  Their eyes darted from right to left and above to the low-hanging branches. Rance saw it before Edward did—the flash of sun against metal. With a movement so quick it was invisible, he drew his gun and fired, and not a second too soon. The shot fired by the man waiting in ambush went wild…the shot meant for Rance.

  The man pitched forward, head slamming into the dirt as blood gushed from the hole in his neck. Rance and Edward slipped quickly from their horses, diving for cover.

  “What in hell is going on?” Edward whispered as they crouched together in the bushes, tensely waiting. “We aren’t in Yankee territory, for God’s sake. This is Alabama. We’re almost home.”

  Rance signaled for him to be quiet. He had heard a faint sound, like someone crying. He called out, “Throw down your guns and come out with your hands up, or we’re going to start shooting.”

  “No, don’t shoot!” the female voice screamed in terror. “I don’t have a gun. Please, don’t kill me.”

  Rance and Edward watched as a woman stepped out into the road, holding her trembling arms above her head. She was young, slender, and underneath the mud and grime that streaked her face, she was quite lovely. Her hair was the color of coal, and even from where they crouched they could see smoldering brown eyes, now wide with fright.

  “There’s no one else here,” she called. “I promise. You must believe me.”

  Rance straightened, fingers still tight on the gun. He whispered to Edward to stay down and cover him until he could be sure the girl was telling the truth. Then he stepped out into the road, slowly, his gun drawn but not aimed. The woman dared to hope he wouldn’t shoot.

  “Start talking,” Rance said quietly.

  She took a gasping breath and pointed to the dead man. “He made me come with him. I didn’t want to. My daddy said he was a traitor and ought to be killed.”

  “Who is he?”

  “Leroy. Leroy Pearson. We’re from Selma. He wanted your horses.” She lifted the skirt of her tattered yellow dress and showed him her bare, bloody feet. “We’ve been walking. Leroy made sure we stayed in the bushes, off the roads. He was afraid my daddy would come after us, but I told him Daddy would never want to see my face again. He would call me a disgrace to the family.”

  Rance waved a hand for silence. “Who are you?”

  “My name is Trella…Trella Haynes.”

  “Miss Haynes,” he nodded. “Spare me details that don’t concern me. That man would have killed me and my partner. You were with him. That makes me suspicious of you. But since I don’t go around killing women, suppose you just get on out of here now.”

  Her hands flew to her throat as she cried, “No! You can’t send me back into those woods. I showed you my feet. I haven’t eaten in two days, and, oh—what kind of man are you?”

  She crumpled to the ground. Rance watched, expressionless. One thing about women, he thought grimly, they can always faint at the most convenient times. A man can’t just close his eyes and fall down. He’s expected to stay awake and face things.

  Edward scrambled from the bushes and knelt down beside the woman. Lifting her head, he looked up at Rance with concern. “We can’t just go off and leave her. She’s telling the truth…”

  “How do you know?” Rance snapped. “There’s something about this I don’t like. Someone else will come along to help her out. We’ve got to get home.”

  Edward smoothed her long black hair away from her face. “I’m not leaving her,” he said gruffly.

  Rance stiffened angrily. He was not used to his men arguing with him. “I said,” he repeated firmly, “that we’re leaving her. Now let’s go.”

  The girl moaned, moving her head slowly from side to side. Another thing about women, Rance thought wryly, is that they can also wake up from a faint any time they choose. Like now…with Edward staring down at her solicitously. She opened those warm, brown eyes and looked up at him with all the heart-shattering appeal of a wounded doe.

  He waited silently while Edward moved quickly to his horse for his water canteen, then bent beside her to give her a drink. Rance listened without speaking as the girl told Edward that Leroy Pearson had courted her until she learned his views about the war, that he refused to fight with the South, and then she agreed with her father that he was not the man for her. But Leroy was crazy, she said. He had kidnapped her. And look what he had done to her, she was sobbing against Edward’s shoulder now. Her father would never let her come home. She did not want to return, anyway. He was a hopeless drunkard who beat her whenever he took the notion. She had no place to go.

  She kept darting anxious glances at Rance, beseeching him to believe her. He looked away, gritting his teeth. The girl was a liar. He had been around enough women in his life to know there was just no truth to the story. It was the sneaky, suspicious look in her eyes and her whining tone that told him. Hell, Edward was so damn dumb.

  Too disgusted to listen any longer, Rance turned and walked over to the dead man. He ought to just fire Edward on the spot, he thought. Fire him and get back to the ranch. But he knew he couldn’t do it. The man was his friend, his closest friend. And if he was letting that little vixen get to him, then he was going to need someone who understood her kind to stand by him.

  The very dead Leroy Pearson was lying on his stomach, eyes staring sightlessly, ants already beginning to scramble about the thickening blood that covered his face and neck. A puddle had formed on the ground, mingling with the red clay. With his toe, Rance turned the dead man over on his back. He searched him absently, knowing he would find nothing important. He took the gun and stuffed it into his coat pocket. Then he clasped his hands about the man’s heels and dragged him from the road into the thick bushes alongside. There was no need to report the incident to the sheriff. Nor was there time. The death of a would be murderer and horse thief was of no consequence. The only ones who cared were the buzzards hovering overhead in eager anticipation. Let them have him.

  Rance brushed his hands on his trouser legs, straightened his hat, and turned to face Edward once more.

  “I’m taking her with me,” his friend said with an expression that pleaded for understanding. “She hasn’t got anybody, Rance. She won’t be no trouble. We can use her around the ranch, and she’ll be company for April.”

  “I don’t want her around April!” Rance spoke louder than he meant to, and he did not miss the girl’s reaction. Her chin jutted up just a bit in defiance.

  “Hell, just keep her out of my way,” he said finally, walking quickly to where Virtus waited. Mounting, he gave the two a final glare. “Do what you want. You know the way home. I’m going on.”

  “I’ll be along,” Edward called to him, relief in his voice, “I’m going to give Trella some food. She’s hungry—”

  Rance kicked Virtus, moving him to a faster gait. He wanted the hooves to strike the ground hard and loud so he would not have to listen to Edward. Hell, you don’t go around picking up women and taking them home with you like stray animals, he tho
ught furiously. Especially one whose man friend tried to kill you and steal your horse.

  He sighed. He knew he had a problem on his hands. Even dirty and tattered, Trella Haynes was lovely. Cleaned up, she was going to be beautiful. Edward was not very experienced with women, and she would be able to handle him like a well-broke colt. He shook his head. The girl was going to be a problem.

  They caught up with Rance several minutes later. She was sitting behind Edward, her arms wrapped around his chest. Every so often Edward would laugh softly. The two were becoming close, fast. Damn you, Clark, he cursed silently, we don’t need this on top of everything else.

  They did not slow the horses until the ranch was in sight. Once again, Rance had a strange feeling. Something was not as it should be. No one was around.

  The hands would be out with the horses, but even the house appeared empty. Where was April? He had figured she would come outside when she heard a horse approaching. He reined to a stop and dismounted. In quick strides, he was across the porch and flinging the door open to call her name—once, twice, three times. Cold apprehension growing, he looked in her room, then his.

  He stepped back onto the porch, chest heaving with rapidly growing fury, just as Tom Stilley came riding up from the trail where he had been on watch. He scanned the man’s face, quickly saw the frightened look. He demanded, “Where the hell is April?”

  “Boss, listen—” Tom leaped from his horse but kept his distance. “When we got back, only Mulhern was still here.”

  Rance waited, teeth and fists clenching. If his suspicions were correct, Hinton was a dead man.

  “Mulhern left, too,” Tom Stilley rushed on. “He got scared of what you’d do when you got back and found out—”

  Rance forced the words from a throat constricting with rage. “Where did Hinton take her?”

  “That’s just it,” he said quickly. “Hinton didn’t take her. She ran away. Mulhern said she left in the middle of the night. They tried to catch her, but couldn’t, and Hinton took off and told Mulhern there won’t no way he was gonna hang around for you to blame him. Mulhern was gonna stay, but when the boys started talkin’ about how mad you was gonna be, he got scared and took off, too.”

  Rance whirled around to smash his fist into a post. Tom Stilley backed away, holding his hands up as he stammered, “Look, boss…I didn’t have nothin’ to do with it. I’m just tellin’ you what was told to me.”

  “When did she run away?”

  “I don’t know. Mulhern said it wasn’t too long after you left. She took that mare she’d been ridin’. They don’t know where she went. Mulhern said they woulda gone after her, but she whopped him over the head and dang near killed him. He was out cold till the next mornin’, and Hinton hung around to see if he was gonna die before he took off after her. By then, it was too late to track her.”

  Just then Edward Clark rode in, Trella still clinging to him, her face flushed with excitement. Edward took one look at Rance and knew not to ask any questions. He looked to Tom, who spread his hands in a helpless gesture and murmured, “She’s gone.”

  Grimly, Rance walked over to Virtus, mounted, and reined him about. He headed back toward the road.

  “Where you goin’?” Tom Stilley yelled after him. “You ain’t gonna find her now. And Mulhern and Hinton are long gone. Won’t do no good to raise hell with them.”

  “Well, where in tarnation does he think he’s goin’?” Tom asked Edward incredulously. “He don’t know where Hinton and Mulhern went, and it ain’t gonna do no good to beat them up.”

  Edward quietly replied, “He isn’t going after them. He’s going after her.”

  Tom’s eyes bugged out. “Well, what in hell for? She’s just another filly, and he damn sure ain’t never lacked for them.” He seemed to notice Trella for the first time and stared at her curiously. “And who might you be?” he demanded.

  Edward answered for her. “This is Trella, and she’s with me. I’m looking after her.”

  Tom looked her up and down and smiled. Then he turned his gaze back toward the rapidly disappearing horse and rider. “What in hell is he goin’ after her for?” he repeated in wonder.

  Edward took Trella’s hand and began to lead her up the porch steps. “Well, Tom,” he began wearily, the play of a smile on his lips, “It’s like this. Right now, Rance just figures he’s going after something that belongs to him. But the truth, and he don’t even know this himself, is he loves the girl.”

  “Rance Taggart?” Tom hooted, stamping his feet in the dust as he danced a little jig of delight.“Rance Taggart in love? Boy, you’re crazy. He ain’t never loved nothin’ but a horse.”

  Edward paused on the porch to stare after his friend. He could be wrong. Rance Taggart had confided once when he’d had too much to drink that he had only fancied himself in love with one woman—a little Mexican girl—and Edward had suspected something tragic had happened there. The look in Rance’s eyes had been startling. Edward had never seen him look that way before. Something strange was going on inside his friend.

  “Well, when’s he coming back?” Tom Stilley demanded.

  Edward looked at him and grinned as though it were all quite simple. “When he finds April, Tom. That’s when he’ll be back.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  April had lost track of time. Zeke brought her scraps of food from the house, and she wondered if Posie would notice and suspect what was happening. Zeke had tormented her one evening when he had laughingly told of her Uncle James arriving in response to her telegram. Vanessa had handled the situation by explaining how grieved she and everyone else was over April’s disappearance. April had turned into a trollop, finally running away.

  Zeke grinned smugly as he described the scene. “That Vanessa is some woman. She stood right there with tears in her eyes and told him how you probably was wanting him to come so you could get some money out of him, ’cause your old pappy quit doling it out to you once he saw your wicked ways. Your stupid uncle believed every word. Just stood there shaking his head with disgust. Ate a big dinner that night and then went on his way home the next morning.”

  So now there was no more hope that Uncle James would help. One day blended into the next as her life shrank to the size of the shack.

  At first, Zeke had come nightly to torment her with descriptions of what he planned to do with her. He hadn’t carried out any of his threats, however, merely making her cringe with fear as he towered over her, ranting. Why hadn’t he touched her? She guessed it was his fear of Vanessa that stopped him, for his hand moved unconsciously to his face every now and then, fingering the raw scar.

  And she dreaded his coming. Some night, he really might rape her.

  One twilight evening, she dragged herself out of the hovel as far as the chain would let her go. Zeke wouldn’t be back until later. She wanted to sit in the sun, wanted just to be out of that horrible shack.

  She wondered, as she did so often, about her father. Was he still alive? And, if so, what kind of torment was Vanessa inflicting upon him?

  She hung her head wearily. She had accomplished nothing in escaping Rance. Nothing.

  A twig snapped. April stiffened and began to rock back and forth in dread anticipation. He was coming. It had been two nights, and even though she had long ago eaten the jerky and corn dodgers he had left behind, and her stomach cramped with hunger, she would rather have endured starvation than his insane rantings.

  With a shudder, she rose and backed toward the cabin door.

  She closed the door and crept through the black cabin to kneel in a corner and wait. But when several moments passed, she dared hope that he wasn’t really coming.

  Then, slowly, the door squeaked open. April burrowed her head in her hands. She knew Zeke was inside, but he had made no move toward her. Was this a new game? She strained to see in the blackness. Suddenly, she could stand the tension no longer and screamed, “Damn you, why are you torturing me this way?”

  “April, shu
t up!” The voice cracked like a whip.

  She could not believe it. No. It was not possible.

  “Get over here. Hurry up. We may not have much time.” He spoke in a harsh whisper, and when she did not move he said, “Damnit, April, move!”

  He stepped back to open the door, and twilight rushed in to give some light. He saw her and crossed over to jerk her to her feet. “We don’t have much time. I don’t want any trouble.”

  And then his eyes raked over her, and he gasped, then cried. “April! What’s happened? And what is this?” He held up the length of chain, the rattling sound ominous in the stillness.

  He shook the chain angrily, trailing his hand down to the cuff about her ankle. “What have they done to you? What’s this connected to? I’ll have to try to break it.”

  Impatiently, he gripped her shoulders to shake her roughly. “April, you must come out of it. I’ve got to get you out of here. Now what’s this chain connected to?”

  “The…bed,” she croaked. “Over there.”

  He released her and walked to the bed, found where the link was connected and began to jerk with all his strength. “I can’t break it,” he said finally. “I’m going to have to shoot it. Stand back.” She obeyed, and he drew his pistol, pointed, and fired. The explosion shook the thin plank walls, but the chain broke open.

  “We’ll have to worry about that ankle cuff and the chain dragging later. Let’s go.” He lifted her in his arms effortlessly, then paused to glance about. “I don’t suppose you’ve got anything here you need to take along. It looks like you weren’t left with much.”

  “How did you find me?” She struggled to get the words out.

  “I hid out in the woods around the house for a couple of days, watching. When I didn’t see you, I finally cornered that little Negro girl, Mandy. I scared the hell out of her, and she told me where she thought you might be.”

  He maneuvered her through the door as he said in a gruff tone, “We’ll talk later, April.”

  He froze. His eyes narrowed and she turned her gaze and gasped at the sight of Zeke standing a few yards away. His lips were twisted in a sneer that was both mocking and angry.