Broddock-Black 05 - Force of Nature

by Susan Johnson

  But beneath her weariness, in a small corner of her brain still operating marginally, a single question repeated itself in baffling puzzlement. Who would be stupid enough to kidnap Hazard Black's daughter?

  Chapter 26

  When the remittance men rose from the fog of inebriation in the early afternoon and wandered into the dining room for their breakfasts, they received news that their captive had arrived.

  “Bring the hussy in,” Hugh ordered the servant, dropping into a chair like dead weight, leaning his head back, half-smiling in anticipation. “Let’s see what this half-breed looks like.” “Now that’s what I call a reason to get up. Other than the pounding in my head,” Langley muttered, easing himself onto a chair at the table. “I need a drink.” And leaning over slowly, he drew a whiskey bottle closer, uncorked it and lifted it to his mouth.

  “Are we talking about your cock getting up or a rhetorical rising?” Nigel drawled, lifting a bottle from the sideboard.

  “Both,” Langley murmured. “Although I’m going to need a drink or ten to make anything move anywhere. Grab me some kippers,” he added, waving his hand at Nigel. “And bring over a deck of cards. We’ll cut for who goes first with her.”

  Nigel scowled. “Do I look like a fucking servant?”

  “One plate of kippers, for Christ’s sake. The lout of a servant left to get the bitch.”

  “If we’re cutting cards, I want a fresh deck.” Hugh surveyed his friends with a jaundiced gaze. “Not that I don’t trust you,” he added sardonically.

  The men’s sense of honor was less than optimal, all the well-advised schooling on gentlemanly behavior that had been drummed into them in their youth sacrificed to their personal pursuit of pleasure. As a result, the next several minutes were occupied in a heated argument over the correct methodology of cutting cards. At last, all was resolved, that first hair-of-the-dog drink helpful in coming to an agreement. Langley was designated cutter, and Hugh turned up high card.

  “It’s only fair,” he said with a gloating smile. “Since it was my idea in the first place.”

  “At least the bitch will still be usable for the rest of us. You last about thirty seconds.”

  “As if you set any records fucking the ladies,” Hugh countered, scowling at Langley.

  “Don’t have to with cunt. They’re just there to service me.” “And now, we have Flynn’s latest hot piece for our enjoyment. A bit of good luck, what say?” Hughie queried, smirking.

  “We’ll have to compare notes on her performance.” Langley lifted his glass with a mocking smile.

  “If Flynn doesn’t come for her first.” Nigel gazed at his friends, his brows raised in critical assessment.

  Hugh flushed red. “Who the hell’s side are you on?”

  “Just being practical.”

  “Have another drink for courage,” Hugh suggested snidely. “We have more than enough hired gun men.”

  “You hope. I just don’t care to go back to England the way Boyden did—in a coffin.” Nigel for all his faults, had a mind that functioned, whereas Hugh and Langley’s intellect had been hampered by too many centuries of aristocratic inbreeding. Nigel’s grandfather had acquired his title for building canals that had enriched the British economy and that hardheaded Breck intellect hadn’t yet been completely diluted in two generations.

  “Hell, if you’re saying you want to give up your turn with the hussy, what say, Langley”—Hugh’s fat lip curled up in a sneer—“there’s just more for you and me.”

  “You won’t find me complaining, Hughie.” Langley flicked back his long blond hair with the air of a priggish fop. “I’m thinking she might be worth keeping here for the duration. It would save us from riding into town for cunt.”

  “Ahem.”

  The soft utterance came from the doorway.

  The three men turned toward the sound, to find the servant they’d sent to fetch their captive standing just inside the doorway with Jo. At least a portion of their conversation had been overheard from the embarrassed look on the man’s face.

  “That will be all, Frank. Shut the door behind you.”

  Jo’s hands were tied behind her back, her toilette sadly lacking after hours on the trail, but she looked at the Englishmen with cool disdain. “Do you know who I am?”

  “One fine-looking cunt once we clean you up.” Hugh’s voice was mocking, but his gaze was lustful. Her voluptuous breasts were thrust forward in the most flaunting manner with her hands tied behind her back.

  “This little exploit of yours might cost you your life. Have you considered that?” If she was feeling any apprehension, it didn’t show.

  “Are you that good in bed?” Langley snickered. “She’s going to fuck us to death, Hughie. Damn! I’m looking forward to that.”

  Jo surveyed them, meeting their eyes with a nervy insolence. “You’ll be dying in a less pleasurable manner, I suspect, once I’m rescued.” While she was aware of her peril, these contemptible creatures didn’t inspire the degree of terror that her abductors had. Those hired guns would have killed anyone for a price. Fortunately, these spineless young Englishmen were in charge.

  Hugh slid up into a sitting position and leaned forward. “Are we supposed to shake with fear?”

  “You’d do better to get on a horse and ride south as fast as you can.”

  “Shut the fuck up,” he snarled. “No one’s going anywhere. We’re not afraid of your father.”

  So they knew who she was. “Then, you’re more stupid than you look.”

  Hauling his corpulent body up from his chair, Hugh moved across the room with a cumbersome tread, fury in his gaze. “The next time you talk back, bitch,” he growled, coming up so close she was forced back a step, “I’ll show you what happens to a loud-mouthed cunt.” Reaching out, he grabbed her breast and gave it a vicious twist.

  Suppressing her gasp of pain, Jo fought back the tears that welled in her eyes. “I’m told the Absarokee can flay a man alive,” she said, through gritted teeth, “and he doesn’t die for days.”

  “Maybe you’ll want to die before I’m done with you.” But his grip loosened, and the flicker in his eyes was fear.

  “We’ll have to see, won’t we,” she murmured. “I’m ready if you are.” A bluff was a bluff was a bluff, but she was in such pain from the malevolent little pig who didn’t have the courage to fight his own battles that, at the moment, she wouldn’t mind skinning him alive herself.

  “I suggest you keep your mouth shut,” Hugh whispered.

  She held his gaze, unflinching. “When my father finds you, your mouth will be shut permanently.”

  For all his bravado, Hugh wasn’t able to conceal his alarm. His hand fell away and he backed off, although his voice when he spoke was boastful for the benefit of his friends. “We’re going to have to teach this bitch some manners.”

  “Let’s see if she’s as insolent after we fuck her a few times.” Three drinks had augmented not only Langley’s courage but also his carnal passions. “But I’d prefer the cunt be bathed first. I can smell her from here.” Langley affected the wardrobe of a Wild West show performer: his shirts of silk; his boots, colorful; his trousers fitted so tightly he couldn’t have ridden a mile in comfort.

  Hugh’s brief moment of fear forgotten, safely distant from Jo’s fanatical gaze, the thought of ramming his cock into the defiant bitch was making him hard. He turned back to his friends. “Where do we want this little orgy to take place?”

  “Why not the billiard room.” Langley’s sly smile revealed sharp little teeth that gave him the odious look of a rodent. “I’ve always wanted to fuck some cunt on the billiard table. First one to sink a ball into her wet pussy wins a monkey,” he chortled.

  Hugh joined in his laughter, getting more excited by the second at such a tantalizing prospect. “With her tied spread-eagle on the table, we can take turns with our balls and the billiard balls. Although we’re not sure you’re going to participate, are we, Nigel?” he jibed. “Are
you in or out of this randy game?”

  “I’ll see.”

  “He’ll see.” Hugh giggled. “He’ll see if he can get his cock up when he’s scared shitless of Hazard Black.”

  “I don’t think the man travels alone,” Nigel murmured, twirling his whiskey glass as he gazed at Jo. “Does he?” he added, nodding in her direction.

  She smiled, feeling more confident with one out of three considering the probable risk in abusing her. “He travels with a small army. You’ll find that out soon enough.”

  “Ooie, ooie, ” Hugh jeered. “I’m scared to death.”

  A good choice of words, Jo reflected, not sure whether the culture of violence was contagious or she was simply responding to their inhumanity with a normal degree of rage.

  “Come, come, boys,” Langley briskly remarked, his liquor consumption having mitigated the last remnants of his hangover. “Let’s move this fucking game along, or should I say this game of fucking,” he added with a roguish smile. Rising from his chair with a determined air, he quickly walked to the door, pulled it open, and roared for a servant. Turning to Jo, he grabbed her arm and jerked her out into the hall. As Frank appeared in the distance, he barked, “Run, arsehole! I don’t like to be kept waiting!”

  When the servant reached them moments later, Langley shoved Jo at him. “Take this bitch to the bathroom and see that she gets clean,” he snapped. “I don’t care how you do it. I want her in the billiard room in fifteen minutes. Understand?”

  “Yes, sir.” The elderly man dipped his head in acknowledgment, then glanced up at Jo, his gaze both apologetic and fearful. “This way,” he said, half under his breath.

  Seeing the trepidation in the man’s eyes, Jo wondered if she’d found an ally. But when she asked, “Can you help me?” as they moved out of earshot of her captors, he shook his head.

  “My life wouldn’t be worth a plugged nickel if I did,” he replied, bluntly. “You’ve seen the kind of men they’ve brung to the ranch. Me and my wife didn’t know what we was gettin’ into when we hired on, and now”—he shrugged helplessly— “no one dares leave.”

  “Have they threatened you?”

  “Not in so many words, but they’re right erratic when they’re drunk. And that’s most of the time when they ain’t sleepin’. Up these stairs, ma’am.”

  “My father’s Hazard Black. He’ll come looking for me.” His eyes widened. “Then I’m between the Devil and the deep blue sea, ain’t I, just.”

  “Could you get a message out for me?”

  “How? The place is crawlin’ with hired killers. No one rides away from here without good reason.”

  “I don’t suppose you could find me a handgun?”

  “If’n it were just me, I might think about it, but with my wife—she can’t ride much anymore. We couldn’t get out of here fast enough if they found out. I’m willin’ to shut you in the bath and look the other way, though, if’n that would do you any good. Turn left here, ma’am,” he said as they reached the top of the stairs. “I wish I could do more, but there’s a few others like me here and we’re caught right and tight for the duration.”

  “Duration?”

  “Until whatever fight they’re plannin’ is over. Hired guns been cornin’ in for almost a month now. Somethin’s gonna happen. This is it.” He opened a door and waved her in. “There’s hot water in the tub. It was brung up for the English gents, but they was too hung over to use it. Should still be hot enough. But you best hurry; he said fifteen minutes and those milords are right ornery. Turn around and I’ll cut those ropes,” he added, taking a penknife out of his pocket “I’ll knock when it’s time to go back downstairs.”

  Free once again, she smiled at him, said, “Thank you,” and walking into the bathroom, shut and locked the door. Understanding time was at a premium, she quickly divested herself of her clothing, stepped into the claw-foot tub filled with steaming water, and lay down in the blessed warmth. She allowed herself only a moment to rest before washing, wishing to avoid any repercussions. Brave she might be under ordinary circumstances, but three drunken aristocrats familiar with the prerogatives of their rank were unpredictable. And while she understood her father would come for her, it might not be soon enough.

  As she dried herself and dressed once again, she came to terms with the possibility she might be raped by the repulsive men downstairs and steeled herself against the ordeal. The physical misery she could withstand; her only concern was whether they were capable of killing her if sufficiently provoked.

  That was the uncertainty.

  Against that possibility, she eyed the razors hanging beside the washstand, wondering if she could secrete one somewhere on her person without jeopardizing her life. She wouldn’t wish it to be turned on her should it be discovered. But she didn’t wish to die, passive and unresisting, either. This thought, brought her to the washstand where she tore a linen towel in strips and wrapped one of the razors in a small scrap of material so it wouldn’t rattle in her boot. Slipping the small bundle down the side of her boot, she straightened her gown, ran a hand over her still-damp hair and waited for the servant to summon her.

  Her heart leaped when the knock sounded and it took a moment to compose herself. Breathing slowly, she told herself she could triumph over three such miserable examples of manhood, then reached for the doorknob and opened the door.

  “Ready?”

  Frank looked almost as worried as she felt. “I think so.”

  “I’m right sorry, ma’am.” He motioned her past him.

  “It has nothing to do with you,” she said, beginning her return journey downstairs. “And with luck, I’ll manage. They seem witless.”

  “But dangerous, ma’am. They’re used to givin’ orders.”

  “You haven’t heard any recent gossip concerning my father?”

  “I went downstairs while you was . .. er ... washin’, but all I found out in the kitchen where the hired men come for food was that they’re waitin’ for some big battle right soon.”

  “How soon?” A battle no doubt meant Flynn and her father with all the preparations she’d seen at Sun River Ranch.

  “No one’s sayin’. But they’re armed full up when they come and go. Here we are, ma’am. The billiard room. I’m right sorry.”

  “Should you have the opportunity to get a message out, see that Flynn Ito knows where I am.”

  “Oh Lord! Him too!”

  Jo almost smiled and if the circumstances hadn’t been so dire she would have. Instead, she nodded, then twitched her foot so she could feel the comfort of the razor in her boot, took a deep breath and said, “Open the door.”

  Her skin turned clammy as she walked in and saw the three men lounging on the billiard chairs drawn up in a half circle at one end of the table. Each had a whiskey bottle in his hand and a coil of rope lay on the green baize table top.

  Feeling her stomach tighten at the sight of the rope, she fought down an urge to scream or run. Neither would be useful. She wouldn’t escape no matter how fast she ran and her cries would only give them satisfaction. But she stopped just inside the door. She wasn’t willing to make this easy for them.

  For a fleeting moment she wondered what would happen if she were to attack them with the razor. With the element of surprise, surely she could do some damage. But what chance did she have of overcoming three men? And what price would she pay for her assault? Perhaps with Flynn and her father near, delay was her best weapon. That and the courage to endure.

  “Come here, bitch.” Snapping his fingers, Hugh pointed to a spot on the carpet directly in front of his chair.

  She moved forward slowly, her hands in fists at her sides, her spine stiff, her expression an impassivity she didn’t feel.

  “There,” Hugh growled, as she approached, indicating a small stool she’d not seen from the door. “Sit.”

  She did, although it was unnerving to obey, to submit to men she normally wouldn’t have even glanced at. And now she had to look up
at them as though they were sovereigns and she their docile vassal.

  “Unbutton your gown.”

  “I can’t. The buttons are in back.”

  “Do it or I’ll rip the dress from you,” Hugh ordered, curtly.

  She had unbuttoned it for her bath; she was capable of the function, however awkward, and not wishing to feel his repulsive touch, she acquiesced. Slowly, taking her time, she undid each button until the gown hung loose on her shoulders.

  “Now take it off—like you do for Flynn. Did he fuck you often during your stay at his ranch? I hear he’s very nice to the ladies—they come and go at all hours of the day or night. You didn’t know that? She seems surprised.” Hugh murmured, glancing at his friends. “Do you suppose he told her she was the first?” he added with a nasty smile.

  “First, last, who cares,” Langley grumbled. “She’s not moving fast enough and my cock is so hard it’s aching. Everything off, quickly now, bitch. Stand up ... the chemise and drawers, too. I want to see what Flynn’s been fucking.”

  Understanding any further delay was impossible, Jo literally gritted her teeth and yielded, coming to her feet, sliding off her gown, her chemise and drawers, debating a moment before slipping off her boots as well. But she set her boots nearby, just in case.

  “Sit,” Hugh barked, snapping his pudgy fingers.

  She complied, her heart beating in her ears, trying not to show her fear. It was agony to be naked before these men, but more frightening was the look in the fat man’s eyes. Brutish and frenzied as though her nakedness fueled some perversity in his brain.

  “I think the bitch needs a drink to loosen her up,” Hugh murmured, stepping down from the high viewing chairs holding his bottle in his hand. “I don’t like tight cunt. Here, bitch, open your mouth.”

  For a brief moment she debated her options, but he was towering over her, the bottle pressed to her lips and before she could make a decision, he grabbed her hair, jerked her head back and as her mouth opened in shock, he poured whiskey down her throat. Sputtering and coughing, she was forced to swallow the vile liquor or choke on it, the steady stream of whiskey filling her mouth, running down her chin and throat, coursing over her breasts and stomach and legs.