Harnessed Passions

by Dee Jones

  They stood less than twenty yards in front of her; Sharon's eyes cold and dark, filled with hatred; her fingers, like Dourn's, were wrapped around the handle of a small revolver.

  "You're such a little fool," Sharon bit out with venom.

  "Where's Daniel?" Julia demanded, forcing control into her voice.

  "Home I suppose. I never did understand what he saw in you."

  "What do you want?" Julia asked through narrowed eyes.

  "What do you think? It's your fault my sister's dead. It should be you in that grave, not Heather."

  "What?" Julia frowned as she listened to the seething anger that filled the girl’s voice.

  "Tell me Julia, have you seen Heather's ghost recently?"

  "How did you know about that?" Accusation echoed in her tone as Julia first glanced at Margie still lying on the ground, and then to Dourn. Had she been right after all? Had Daniel been more intimate with the beautiful Sharon Farnsworth than he claimed and revealed Julia's horrible visions to her in a moment of intimacy?

  "Ya don't honestly think Heather would come back just fer ya, now do ya?" Dourn asked; a quiet threat echoing around them as he spoke.

  "You...both of you?" Julia whispered, mentally beginning to piece the puzzle together and feeling the strange relief of knowledge. "You attacked me that day in my father's study, didn't you? You made me believe I'd seen Heather, but why?"

  "That ain't important," Dourn growled, his voice dangerously low through the night's stillness. "Ya killed Heather 'n it's time ya paid fer yer actions."

  "Heather was my best friend, I would never hurt her," Julia said, hoping her voice was as strong and calm as she tried to make it sound, considering the terror gripping her insides. "You didn’t even know her; what gives you the right to accuse anyone?"

  "I’s known her better than ever’one. Heather were my wife."

  "What? Heather wasn't married, it's impossible. You've only been here a few weeks; you told me so yourself."

  "Yer such a child," the man sneered. "I’s used ta work fer yer ol’ man, 'til that husband a yers ruined ever'thin'."

  "What's Daniel got to do with this?"

  "I’s were in the saloon tryin' ta ferget how ya killed Heather 'n just got ‘way with it, when him 'n that fat Leonard came in," Dourn paused a brief second looking down at Margie laying at his feet, before he continued. "They started toastin' women and claimin' theirs were better than an’ones. I’s tried ta prove him wrong when he attacked me 'n had me thrown in jail. Yer pa fired me when I’s come back ta work next day."

  "I thought I recognized you, but who are you? I don't know any Dourn."

  "Allow me ta introduce myself," Dourn smiled with an evil grin on his unshaven face. "The name's Overton; Michael Overton. I's be Rally's son."

  "Michael," Julia gasped remembering the one and only time Heather had ever mentioned a Michael. "Heather said she knew a man named Michael, but she never told me anything else. If she was married, why didn't she tell me? We were closer than any two people ever were; if she really did marry you, she would have told me."

  "We were 'fraid ya'd try 'n talk her outta marryin' me, if'n ya knew. Ya were always criticizin' her, tellin' her she weren't smart 'nough or purty 'nough. Ya even gave her yer thrown off clothes, just ta make her feel beneath ya."

  "That's not true. I never said anything like that to Heather. She was my best friend and I loved her. My life has been empty since she died."

  "Yer life? What 'bout my life. Ya ruined my life!" Michael stepped across Margie to approach Julia, the gun in his hand shaking with anger, the smell of sweat and whiskey reeked in the air around him.

  "I didn't kill Heather," Julia shouted, taking a step up the path. "She was dead when I got here."

  "Yer a liar!" he shouted, grabbing Julia by the arm. “I’s s’posed to meet her after she were done speakin’ ta ya, but she nev’er showed up. When I’s came lookin’ fer her, I’s seen you with her dead body. I’s seen it with my own eyes. Ya killed my Heather.”

  "It's not true. She was dead when I found her, you have to believe me."

  "Believe a lying little tramp like you?" Sharon snarled, edging closer to the two. "Why should he? He knows the truth, just like I do."

  "Michael, listen to me," Julia insisted, trying to remain calm. "Heather's death was an accident. Nobody killed her, she fell and hit her head. If you knew Heather as well as you claim, then you must have known she wasn't a very good swimmer."

  "Heather didn't come 'ere ta swim, she came here ta tell ya she was leavin'. Heather 'n I were movin' ta Colorada ta start a ranch all our own. She were scared ya wouldn't understand, she were 'fraid ya'd tell her folks 'n they'd stop us, so she waited 'til she found out she were pregnant."

  "Pregnant?" Sharon snapped, eyeing the man strangely. "You never told me you got my sister pregnant. Was she better in bed than I am?"

  "Ya couldn't hold a candle ta Heather when it comes ta love makin'," the man told her with a deep chuckle.

  "But you said you liked my body," Sharon whispered, her tone soft and laced heavy with hurt.

  "Yer convenient Sharon, but ya'll never be Heather. She were more a woman then ten just like ya."

  "That's not true!" The woman demanded, shoving the man's shoulder and nearly tipping him over. Julia gasped as she was pulled off balance, landing in the mud near the water's edge. "I'm more of a woman than that sniveling little nobody. Just ask any man, they'll all tell you I'm the best lover there is."

  "Yer loosin' yer grip woman," the man snapped, pulling himself up to face her. "If'n ya ain't careful, ya'll find yerself back in that hospital I’s helped ya get outta."

  "Don't say that Mikie, please," Sharon pleaded suddenly, wrapping her arms around the man's neck. "You know I didn't mean it, please don't take me back there. I couldn't stand being locked up like that again, begging for the guards to love me. It's terrible there."

  "Then get hold a yerself 'n let's get this over with." Michael unlaced Sharon's fingers and turned back to Julia who was sitting in a stunned silence on the wet, soggy ground. "It's time ta end this little mas’rade." He grabbed hold of Julia's arm and pulled her to her feet with a mighty thrust that had her lunging straight into the man's smelly chest.

  "You can't do this Michael," Julia pleaded as the man tugged her to the water's edge. "You'll never get away with this, there will be people looking for me. They'll find you, both of you; they’ll lock both of you up, or hang you." Julia thought for a brief moment about mentioning Margie, but feared whatever was about to happen to her, would soon happen to her friend as well.

  "We weren't planning on going anywhere," Sharon snickered gleefully. "Everyone will think you killed yourself out of guilt about what you did to Heather. The whole town knows you've seen my sister's ghost, so they'll just think you were slowly going crazy. Daniel of course will be heartbroken, but I'll be there to help him heal."

  "Like hell ya will," Michael growled, turning around to face her. "Ya may not be as good as Heather, but yer better than nothin'." Julia felt a certain degree of her old temperament coming back to life as she listened to these two argue. If she could get them to fight, then perhaps she could get to one of the horses and get away.

  "He's lying to you Sharon." Julia's voice was level and stern as she used her only chance to offset the two. "He'll never love you; you heard him say he loved Heather. He doesn't think you're as good as she was. He's obsessed with a dead woman. He will never want you for anything other than his own pleasure; that is until he grows tired of you. As soon as he finds someone prettier, he'll leave you. He'll take you back and put you in that hospital where he doesn't have to worry about you. You'll just be a part of his past; something he'll never again think about."

  "Shut up bitch!" Dourn growled, tightening his grip on her arm.

  "You bastard," Sharon whispered in a soft gasp. "You'll do it too, won't you, just like she said? I'll be in the way and you'll put me back in that horrible place, just to get rid of
me."

  "Don't listen ta her Sharon," Michael growled, his grip sending arrows of pain up Julia's arm, causing her to gasp with agony. "She's tryin' ta throw ya off so's ya'll help her ‘scape. Think 'bout Heather; she killed yer sister. We can't let her get away with that."

  "He's lying Sharon," Julia said again, seeing the confusion well up on the woman's face. "If Heather were here, he'd never have given you a second glance. He'd have thrown you away for your sister, just like a piece of rotten meat."

  "She's right," Sharon said, leveling her gun on to him. "You would have chosen Heather over me, wouldn't you?" Sharon pulled the trigger in a moment of rage, a bullet whizzed past Julia's head, ripping through the intended victim's shoulder.

  Michael cried out in pain falling to the ground, his colt .45 discharged as he fell backward, propelling a bullet at lightning speed through the muggy night air. It struck Sharon's slender abdomen with vibrating force, making her grasp her stomach with disbelief; blood oozed between her fingers as pain and fire spread through her entire body.

  She slumped forward falling to her knees, her eyes widened in horror and she crumpled into the cold unforgiving water. Her last breaths filled her lungs with the very water that had claimed her own sister so long ago. Another life lost; sacrificed to the dark murky seclusion of this horrible place Julia had once loved and thought of as her private paradise.

  The reality of events came to Julia tenfold. She glanced to the man who lay moaning in pain at the water's edge. Realizing this was her only chance to escape, she scurried up the small incline as fast as she could. Her feet slipped in her haste; causing her to fall to the wet ground as her feet sunk deeper into the mud. A twig snapped behind her, sending a chill of panic up her spine, forcing her to hasten her pace. In a crab-like fashion, she continued her way up the hill to freedom. The evening breezed blew across her face drying the tears she had been unaware of shedding.

  Julia neared the crest of the hill, then fell again, grasping in pain as she felt the panic of loss swoop down upon her. The tightness of a cold band, steel and relentless in pressure clamped down on her ankle, sending her in the dirt and grass, face first. A cloud of dust erupted around her face and head, making her cough and spit the dirt from her mouth as she cried out for help.

  Julia was being pulled back down the hill, the steel band of Michael’s fingers wrapped tighter around her ankle sending a numb tingling traveling up her leg as she continued to struggle against him.

  "Ya rotten bitch!" Michael growled, struggling to gain control of his victim with his one good arm. "I's gonna make ya pay fer ever'thin' ya've done."

  "You can't just shoot me Michael; there are too many people who can hear. Margie will tell everyone it was you."

  "But I's managed ta cover all that," he told her calmly, finally fixing his hold on her and forcing her back to her feet. "When they's find yer body, it will be too late ta help ya. Ya'll be dead just like my Heather. I nearly had ya the first time, but I mistook yer faintin' as death, then ya crawled outta the water 'n was saved by that damned husband of yers. I won't make that mistake again."

  "There will be questions. The sheriff won't ignore the bullets and they'll look at you. They all know you're the one who's been starting the trouble at the ranch. Too many people have seen you with Sharon. You can't get away with this."

  "The only thin' an’body has seen is a dark ‘aired woman on a brown horse. Ever’one thinks ya were the one doin' it all. Now with Sharon 'n ya both dead the problems will stop, just as they did when ya were in Boston. They'll all figer ya were the ones behind the attacks."

  "What about Margie? How can you explain away an attorney's wife, witnessing what you’ve done?"

  "What makes ya think she'll be here ta say an’thing?"

  "You wouldn't..." Julia gasped in horror feeling her own hand on the seal of her friend's fate.

  "One more death won't mean that much right now."

  "What about Sharon, how are you going to explain her being found dead along side of me and Margie?"

  "They'll think ya confronted her 'n ya killed each other, the Leonard bitch was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

  "You've planned everything haven't you? I'll bet you even planned on killing Sharon, didn't you?"

  "When I’s had my fill a her. Actu’lly ya did me a favor, shakin' her up like that. Now I's don't have ta try 'n cover up her death too. Ya see, in the law's eyes she were already dead. I managed ta get her outta that there ins’tution in New York 'n leave a nurse in her place. It were just fate the room caught on fire when it did. They all think Sharon were killed in the blaze. It actu’lly made it easier ta keep her here without causin' suspicions."

  "Daniel's a lawyer, he'll demand answers and justice; so will Harold. How are you going to provide them with that?"

  "I's ain't gonna have ta. The sheriff will insist ever'thin' is cut 'n dry 'n they'll all ferget 'bout ya soon 'nough." Julia felt the water on the back of her dress, as he tugged her into the edge of the pond.

  "There's nothing that can go wrong."

  "What will happen when you find Heather's real killer? How will you explain killing them too?"

  "Nice try, but I's known ya killed her. Yer guilty as sin, 'n yer gonna burn in hell fer it."

  "I didn't kill Heather!" Julia shouted as the man pulled her to her knees in the water.

  "Let her go son," a voice broke through the brush behind them, causing Michael to stop his actions and turn around. Standing just inside the clearing was Rally Overton, his expression stern and serious, his hand wrapped around his Winchester.

  "Pa, what are ya doin'? She killed my Heather, she deserves ta die."

  "She didn't kill the girl, I's did."

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Michael and Julia both stared at Rally dumbfounded; wondering if he'd lost his mind.

  "You?" Julia whispered, her head aching from all she'd heard, her heart pounding from fear and her stomach churning with nauseous anticipation.

  "Ya killed my wife, Pa?" Michael asked, his hand releasing Julia as he struggled to turn around in the muddy water.

  "I’s didn't know she were yer wife, son. It were an accident Michael, I's swear it."

  "Why Pa? Why'd ya kill her?" Michael’s eyes were wide with disbelief, his hands clenching into tight fists.

  "I’s thought ya'd been sneakin' 'round with Miss Julia 'n I knows her pa woulda had ya arrested if'n he found out. I saw the two of ya ride out here, I knows ya were plannin' on runnin' off together so I's followed ya. I's thought I coulda talked ya outta leavin', talked some sense inta ya. When I's got here, Miss Heather were alone. I's tried ta reason with her, I's tried ta talk her outta takin' ya away, but she refused ta listen. She said she loved ya 'n she would never leave ya. She insisted yer leavin' were fer the best. I tried ta talk ta her I's swear I's did. I's grabbed her by the arm, but she pulled away 'n fell. She hit her head on a rock 'n stumbled inta the water."

  "Why didn't you help her?" Julia asked, feeling a similar pain the younger Overton was struggling with.

  "I's couldn't. Alls I could do were watch her drown. I's known it were fer the best, with her gone I’s known Michael woulda stayed, but then he had ta get inta that fight with Mr. Brownin' 'n Mr. Turner fired him when he found out. Ever'thin' I did were fer ya son," Rally said looking pitiful; his eyes begging for his son's forgiveness. "I's only tried ta protect ya."

  "But she were my wife Pa. I loved her. She were gonna have my baby."

  "I's truly sorry Michael, but someday yer gonna understand. Ya were all I’s had left a yer ma; I couldn't let an’thin' happen ta ya."

  "Ya killed my wife!" Hearing only the man's confession, he leapt toward him shouting obscenities as he landed in the middle of Rally's aging frame, knocking him to the ground. They struggled for several minutes rolling back and forth in the moist dirt, fists striking into one another, blood spilling to the ground. Grunts of pain sounded like wild boars in the stillness of the night, each rece
iving and delivering his own fair share of the blows.

  Julia looked up as a movement caught her eye and saw Margie struggle to sit up. She slowly edged her way out of the cool water and moved to comfort her friend. Her head had a large gash across her brow and her eyes were cloudy with pain, but she was alive and coherent to Julia's presence.

  The two women remained silent as the Overton men continued their fight; neither willing to move yet both knowing they should get away as quickly as possible. It was as if they were mesmerized by the sights. The pain in Margie’s head made seeing difficult while Julia sat transfixed; she wasn’t sure if she could move, even if she wanted to.

  Grunts of pain continued to rise in the night air until a shot rang out, echoing through the dark tranquility of the secluded pond. Julia jumped at the sound of the gun firing and grimaced slightly in fear and shock. She couldn't move; she just sat there staring as Rally stumbled to his feet, the smoking gun held tight in his hand. He stared down at his son’s lifeless body; blood poured out of the hole in his chest, soaking into the dirt beneath him.

  Julia felt the bile rise in her throat as she watched the man who had just killed his own flesh and blood; blood that was quickly returning to the earth God had given him life from. Rally fell to his knees, sobbing softly beside Michael’s lifeless body. His soul screamed for mercy as the sound of horses rang through the thick brush.

  Daniel hurried down the embankment calling to Julia, shouting her name through the night as the shouts of men echoed through the stillness. Julia called back as tears fell down her dirty cheeks; his voice was like a salve to an open wound, healing and giving life to a weary soul in the same breath. The men cleared the brush they stopped as silence fell around the scene. The stared at their foreman who lay sprawled across his dead son, bawling like a child.