by Candace Camp
“You don’t know what you’re offering to me. I’d take advantage of you.”
“How?”
“Damn it!” He whirled to face her. “You should have gentleness. You need a soft bed and a good man, not the hard ground and a worthless son of a bitch who’ll bring you nothing but sorrow!”
They stared at each other in silence for a moment. He hadn’t realized it until he’d said it, but he knew it was the truth. He had held back not only because he didn’t want to frighten Amy or hurt her. He didn’t want to ruin her, and he knew that even knowing his touch would blacken her.
“Don’t say that about yourself!”
“It’s the truth.” Brody’s face was bleak and hard. “We both know it. I’m wicked. I’ll hurt you. I’ll ruin your life. I already have. And if I make love to you, I’ll make it even worse.”
“No. No.”
“It’s the truth! Damn it, I can’t let go of you, but I won’t stain you with my wickedness. I won’t drag you down in the dirt with me.”
He whirled and walked away from her. Amy sat staring after him numbly.
Chapter Twelve
It was slow work tracking Brody’s gang, but Slater and Victoria pursued it doggedly. The trail was old and faint, difficult to follow, and there were times when he lost them altogether. But each time, with what seemed like a sixth sense, he would eventually pick up the trail again.
When Victoria commented on the uncanny way he was able to find the right path, Slater said, “It’s not that strange. Some of it is dumb luck. The rest is mostly persistence and patience.” He shot her an amused, sideways glance. “Not an occupation suited to you, I gather.”
Victoria raised an eyebrow. “Are you implying that I lack patience?”
“You’ve been fidgeting all day like an ant on a hot rock.”
“It’s horribly slow.”
Slater grinned. “Mm-hmm.”
Victoria grimaced. “I know. I know. Patience and persistence. Surely it must be more than that.”
“A little more. I know Brody pretty well. I know in general where he’s headed. I’ve been after him for a long time.”
“How long?”
“Two years. He has a lot of tricks. He’s as good at running and hiding as I am at following. Better, I guess, since he’s managed to elude me.”
“Why have you been after him for so long?”
He shrugged. “Stubbornness, I suppose. I don’t have a particular grudge against him—except that he always stays ahead of me. I was working out of the Ranger camp at Copperas Cove the first time I went after him. He’d robbed a stagecoach line. He lost me slick as a whistle. It got my dander up. I thought I was something special at tracking. After that I spent a lot of my spare time trying to find him. I’ve set spies on him, paid informers, ridden after him in posses and by myself. He always gets away from me.”
“You almost sound as if you admire him.”
He glanced at her, startled. Then he gave a short laugh. “Maybe I do, in a way. I admire his skill. He’s organized, he’s fast, he’s smart. He knows how to lead him men, and that’s difficult, considering the caliber of men he deals with. He’s not as bad as some. He doesn’t kill for meanness.”
“He kidnapped Amy.” Victoria’s words were sharp. “And we know what he’ll do to her.”
Slater’s eyes were unreadable. “Some men will risk anything to have a certain woman. He’s never done it before.”
Victoria’s eyes opened wide. “Are you suggesting that my cousin was somehow responsible for his taking her?”
“I didn’t say responsible. But you don’t go up to a rattlesnake and pet it. That’s what she did with Brody.”
“Amy has a warm, generous heart. She can’t stand to see anyone hurt. She was being kind, and that makes what he did all the more vicious and reprehensible. I’d like to take a horsewhip to him!”
“It’s possible he won’t hurt her.”
“Won’t hurt her! Why else would he have taken her?”
“Maybe as a hostage. He could have figured she’d be something I’d bargain for.”
“That doesn’t mean he won’t hurt her while she’s in his power.”
“If he kills her, he won’t have any advantage.”
Victoria’s hands tightened convulsively on the reins. “There are other things! And Amy’s so defenseless.”
Victoria’s distress touched Slater. He wished there was some comfort he could offer her. “I think he might…keep her to himself.”
Victoria’s eyes shot fire. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“It’s better than the alternative.”
“She’s so innocent! If you only knew her. She’s never even flirted with a man. She doesn’t have the first idea what—she’ll be scared and hurt. I can’t bear to think of her in pain.”
“I told you, Brody doesn’t kill out of meanness, and I never heard of him hurting women. Maybe he’ll be gentle with her.” Slater knew the idea wasn’t particularly reassuring, but he hated the anguish in Victoria’s eyes and it was the only consolation he could realistically give her.
“A man like that wouldn’t know the meaning of the word. And how could the—the violation of a woman possibly be gentle? Do you think it’s permissible for him to rape her as long as he doesn’t beat her, or give her to his men, too?” Heat rose in Victoria’s face, part anger and part embarrassment. She’d never had a conversation with a man that touched on sex; she’d never before even said the word “rape” aloud. But she was too furious and distressed to be ladylike.
“I didn’t say that! Damn it, you sure know how to twist a man’s words. I was trying to console you, to give you some hope.”
“Thank you, but I’m not a shrinking violet that has to be protected with false hope.”
“It’s not false hope. It’s a reasonable assumption from what I know of Brody that he won’t kill her or beat her or let his men abuse her. That doesn’t mean it’s all right for him to take her against her will. But I don’t want you fretting over the worst things that could happen to her. We’ll get her back, and I’ll get Brody. And he will pay for what he’s done to your cousin, just like he’ll pay for his other crimes.”
“He couldn’t possibly pay enough for hurting Amy. She’s an angel. She’s not at all like me.”
He chuckled. “You mean you aren’t an angel?”
She shot him a fulminating glance. “I know what you think of me. What most men think of me.”
“Yeah? And what’s that?”
“First, until I open my mouth, they think I’m beautiful.”
“You’re modest, as well.”
Victoria shrugged. “I’m honest. I can’t claim any credit for it. They say I look like my mother. Besides, it’s never been anything but a hindrance. Everyone assumes I’m an idiot because of the way I look.” Her eyes met his challengingly. “Isn’t that what you thought when you saw me?”
Slater’s mouth was suddenly dry. He remembered his first sight of her in that dusty brown dress, blue eyes vivid in her perfect face. He remembered the way his eyes had run down her body to the swell of her rounded breasts and the narrow circle of her waist. “Yeah. I thought you were beautiful.” He cleared his throat. “A man would have to be blind not to.”
“But when they hear me talk and see me act the way I do, they think I’m a harpy.”
“Harpy?”
“Yes. They think I’m willful, domineering and difficult to deal with.”
Slater pressed his lips together. “I can’t imagine why.”
“Because I don’t act like a simpering fool, which is what men want.”
“Not all men.”
“No? I’ve never met one who didn’t. There are two reasons why men are interested in me: one is the way I look, and the other is my father’s ranch. They couldn’t care less what I think or say or feel, except that it usually makes them angry.”
“Is
there something wrong in liking beauty?”
“No. But there’s more to me than that.”
Slater knew that for a fact. There were strength and courage and skill in Victoria—and enough hardheadedness for two people. But he had to be grateful for all those qualities; they’d saved his life.
Victoria’s voice was scornful, but there was something a trifle wistful in her face. “And the rest of me is what makes men run for the hills.”
“I doubt that.”
“It’s true. I scare men.”
“Maybe some. There are other men who enjoy a challenge.” Heat slithered through him at his words. He thought of the challenge of Victoria, of wooing and winning her in his bed. He thought of her strength beneath him, of her toughness turning into soft pliancy.
He looked at her. Her eyes were huge, and so dark a blue they were almost purple. They were the kind of eyes that could make a man do almost anything. Slater glanced away. That kind of thinking was dangerous. Victoria Stafford was dangerous. She was beautiful, but she’d drive a man crazy, and she wasn’t the kind you could take, then leave.
For once, Victoria was speechless. She wanted to ask him what he’d meant by his words, but she didn’t have the courage. Was he a man who preferred a challenge? If any man did, he would. There was a strength in him that she’d never met in anyone else, even her own father. Slater was tough to the bone.
“Besides,” Slater went on softly, “Maybe you aren’t as hard as you like to think.”
“What does that mean?”
“I remember you said you didn’t care about your reputation, about what people would say if you went off with me alone for several days.”
“So?” Victoria turned her chilliest gaze on him.
“So why did Mrs. Miles call you my wife?”
Victoria colored a little. “No doubt she just presumed that was the case.”
“Uh-huh. And how come you didn’t set her straight?”
“It didn’t seem important.”
“I see. So unimportant that you took off my star and hid it in my boot. That is why you did it, isn’t it—because they wouldn’t think we were married if they knew I was a Ranger pursuing a felon?”
His voice was laced with amusement, and that irritated Victoria. Unfortunately, she couldn’t think of much with which to defend herself. “I was afraid Mrs. Miles might turn us out if she knew the truth. That’s all. I couldn’t risk her doing that with you being so sick.”
“Not because you’re worried about people talking about you.”
She shot him a fierce look. “They won’t say anything to my face. At least, not more than once.”
He chuckled. “I’m sure of that.”
Victoria recalled how annoying he had been before he came down with the fever. As his health returned, apparently so did his ability to irritate her. She nudged her horse away from his. She could sense his silent amusement, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of looking at him. She kept her head turned straight ahead and her lips clamped tightly together. They rode on in silence.
They crossed the Blanco River, and it was there, in the damp dirt beside the river, that Slater saw the multiple hoof prints diverge. “Damn. They’ve split up.”
“What?” Oh, no.” Victoria dismounted and went to stand beside him, staring down at the two sets of tracks. “Which one will we follow?”
“My guess is the set of two horses. The men headed east, and Brody took Amy with him in the other direction. He’d keep her with him, and why take another man along? Besides, look.” He went down on one knee beside one of the prints. “These prints are shallower. Probably a lighter rider, like a small woman.”
So they followed the set of double hoof prints. It led northward, then turned back to the west. They often lost the prints, and sometimes it seemed as though only luck enabled them to pick them up again. Once, after a fruitless hour, they stumbled across the set of prints on a muddy bank of a stream.
Slater, squatting down beside the tracks, said, “Here. This one’s shallower, and the other one has a little notch in the shoe. See that mark? It’s one side of that notch.”
“You found them!”
Slater sighed, taking off his hat and running his hand back through his hair. “I’m pretty sure they’re the same ones we’ve been following, yeah. But we don’t know that they’re Brody and Amy. A pair of horses together are a lot more common than the set of five we were following earlier. There were several prints at that ford awhile back. I could have tracked the wrong set out from it.”
When it grew dark, they camped and started afresh the next morning. Almost immediately, they lost the trail they had been following. It stopped at the edge of a rocky creek, and there were no prints on the other side. They rode down the creek one way and then back the other. After a while, they came upon a long, rocky shelf of land that would hold no footprints.
“All right. This is a trick he likes.” He walked along the finger of flat rocks, but when it ended in dirt, there were no prints to be seen. Slater swung down from the saddle and began to walk, scouring the ground in ever-widening circles. There was no sign that a horse had been anywhere near there. Slater cursed and walked away. Picking up a fallen branch, he stood for a long moment, staring out over the landscape, breaking the stick of wood into ever smaller pieces. Finally he threw them away in a quick, impatient gesture and came back to her.
“He’s done it again.” Slater’s voice was flat and devoid of emotion, and his eyes were hard as stones.
“What?” Victoria frowned, watching him.
“He got clean away. I’ve lost him.”
Victoria was surprised. She hadn’t seen Slater grow discouraged before. “Don’t worry. You’ll find the trail again. You have every other time.”
“No. This time it’s different.” He turned and pointed back the way they’d come. “That creek we just crossed? It feeds into the Blanco. The bastard’s led us all around.”
“The Blanco? You mean we’re back where we started?”
Slater shook his head. “Farther north. The river twists around, first west then northerly. I thought he was heading toward Austin eventually or into the hills to the west. But now…I’ve lost the tracks and from here, he could go anywhere—San Antonio or follow the Blanco east, turn around again and go back to Austin. I think we’re finished.”
Fear leaped in her stomach. “Don’t say that. We will find it. We have to.”
“Wishing’s not the same as getting.” Slater swung back up into the saddle. “Come on. Let’s try upstream a little farther and then go back to where we started.”
They searched until darkness fell and they were forced to make camp. Victoria’s fear grew by leaps and bounds. Slater had been so successful at finding whatever scrap of trail Brody had left that she had come to assume that he always would, no matter what. But now, suddenly, she saw all hope of finding Amy crumbling away right in front of her.
The next morning they crossed back over the creek and traveled alongside it in either direction, hoping that Brody had doubled back. Slater could find no trace of the passage of even one horse. Finally, in mid-afternoon, Slater pulled to a halt in the shade of a large live oak and dismounted. Victoria followed him. He turned to her, his face impassive.
“I’ve lost him. The trail’s gone. There’s nothing to do but head back.”
Victoria felt as if he had knocked the wind out of her. “No. To Santa Clara? We can’t.”
“We haven’t got any other choice. Brody’s gone.”
“But what about the other times? You picked up the trail eventually.”
“Victoria, I’ve looked up and down this river and every little godforsaken branch of it for a day and a half without finding their prints. It’s pointless to stay out any longer.”
“But you can’t just go home! You can’t leave Amy out here with him!”
“What else can I do?” Slater’s face was lined with wea
riness.
“Keep looking!”
“Where? How?” he barked. “I’ve checked every square foot of land up and down this river for miles.”
“But he couldn’t have vanished. There must be a sign of him somewhere.”
“There’s not. We’re just wasting time. He’s gone.”
“No!”
“There’s nothing else we can do. We’ll go to Austin. It’s closer, and that’s where I’m headquartered. You can send a telegram to your father from there.”
“You’re crazy! I’m not going to Austin. You may be a quitter, but I’m not!”
Slater’s mouth tightened. “I’m not quitting. I’ll find Brody.”
“When?”
He turned away. Slater hated the look of betrayal and scorn in Victoria’s eyes. She had trusted him, counted on him, and he had let her down. After what she’d done for him, he hadn’t been able to give her what she wanted. He had failed, and the knowledge left a bitter taste in his mouth.
“When he robs his next bank?” Victoria continued acidly. “A few months? A year? Or maybe two, like you’ve already been waiting!”
“When I can get any information that will lead me to him.”
“I thought you were a special man,” Victoria lashed out. “Someone with courage. With strength and determination. Obviously I was wrong. You’re weak. A coward. I’m more of a man than you are!”
Slater’s eyes blazed. “What you are is spoiled. You think all you have to do is want something and you’ll get it. Reason doesn’t count with you. Logic means nothing. You don’t give a damn about what’s possible and what’s not. All you care about is getting what you want.”
“I care about saving a human being, that’s what I care about!”
He uttered a harsh expletive. “And nobody else does, is that it? Just because I don’t throw a temper tantrum, you think it’s fine with me to have to give up? You think I don’t mind leaving an innocent woman with a criminal like Brody? I mind. I mind like hell! It’s why I spend my life doing what I do instead of sitting at home, having a family and raising cattle. But I’m not a baby. I don’t cry for the moon. I don’t fly into a rage when things turn against me.”