Delilah's Flame

by Parnell, Andrea

  Tabor edged away, figuring this wasn’t the best time to explain things to Sally Ann. He spied Sarah and made a beeline for her, still hearing Sally Ann wailing behind him.

  Sally Ann had many friends in Sandy Flats, but there were a few who gloated at seeing her get her comeuppance. She was met with as much laughter as compassion. At least one of the wide-eyed observers had the presence of mind to produce a horse blanket and wrap it around her shaking shoulders. Another found her parents and from them Sally Ann got the consolation she needed.

  Sarah, seeing Sally Ann and reading a look from Tabor, grabbed Wyrick by the arm and made for the door.

  “You sure stuck a stick in a hornet’s nest, boy,” Sarah chastised as they escaped the crowd. “I hope Lilah’s not as sad-looking as that imp Sally Ann.”

  Tabor scowled. “Watch your tongue, Sarah. Lilah’s fine except for her temper, and I think she blames all of this on me.”

  “Small wonder,” Sarah commented dryly. “You should have made yourself clear to Sally Ann way back instead of stringing her along.”

  “Don’t nag, Sarah. I’m in no mood.” Tabor’s scowl deepened. “I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.”

  “You don’t think they’re hurt now?” Sarah asked forcefully. “Being humiliated in front of the whole of Sandy Flats?”

  Tabor didn’t answer. He halfway felt all of this was his fault, and wondered how he was going to deal with two she-cats who would like to claw his eyes out along with each other’s. What was worse, he noticed Lilah wasn’t waiting where he’d left her.

  “Goddammit!” he said, mindless that Sarah didn’t cotton to his profanity. “Where the hell is Lilah?”

  Sarah let out a heavy sigh, one of those that said it was going to be a long night. “There,” she said, pointing to Tabor’s mount galloping by almost covered by blue silk skirts. Lilah’s long hair streamed out in a banner behind her.

  She was riding away from the ranch and out into open country. Tabor shouted after her but she never looked back. He glanced around at Sarah’s stern face and moaned. Now he had three females ready to shoot him in the back.

  Chapter 18

  Pulling a long leather glove tight over his bandaged hand and wrist, Judd Chapman led his horse down the blackened length of the alley across from Tompkin’s barn. A smile as wicked as the split of a serpent’s mouth shone from his face. For hours he had watched the festivities in Sandy Flats and now he was to be rewarded for his patience. What he wanted would come to him as if he’d sent a formal invitation.

  He watched the rider, a woman, streak by in defiant disregard of the darkness or the few people on the street. Her hair flew out behind her and caught the moonlight. No woman but Lilah Damon had hair like that, like copper beaten into gold. Even if those streaming tresses had been covered he would have known her by the shapely silhouette of her curves and by the angry set of her mouth. How well he remembered the tempting fullness of those lovely lips. And they were but one of her gems.

  He thought of sampling them, and though his way was alien to other men, the picture in his mind sent a surprising rush of blood into his manhood. At the unexpected surge and tightening there, Chapman fell against his horse, for a moment unable to mount. Fires of hell! Just the thought of her had made him hard. He couldn’t count the years since that had happened.

  “Lilah.” He rolled the name off his lips as he thought of the lush curves and satin flesh that would soon be his.

  It almost seemed a shame to disfigure that lovely body, but the thought of the pleasure it would be to see red blood against that milky skin outweighed the few shreds of his conscience. He licked his lips, thinking of the salty taste of it mingled with her sweetness. He would take it slow with her, only a few nicks at a time. And if she could keep him hard, he would keep her with him a long, long time.

  Chapman immediately spat out a curse. Stanton! Stanton would be hot on her trail in a matter of minutes. He didn’t doubt that. With his gun hand useless, there wasn’t a way he could face Stanton. Cursing, Chapman spurred his horse to a run. The serpent’s smile returned to his lips as his twisted mind worked in its devious way.

  Why should he face Stanton? The last time they had met, his mistake had been in letting the girl go. If he’d held on to her, Stanton would have yielded to him. The same would work now. Stanton wouldn’t risk hurting Lilah. All he had to do was get to her first, and Stanton would be finished. A harsh laugh rumbled out of his throat. Putting a bullet in Stanton would be a big pleasure.

  Afterward Damon would give him the claim for the promise of getting his daughter back. Chapman laughed even more scornfully. He had to stop thinking small. Damon was a rich man. Lilah would be worth more to him than just the claim.

  Praising Lady Luck for giving him such an easy chance at getting rich and another chance at being a man, Chapman turned his horse to a high trail above the road. Not far ahead he heard the clatter of another horse’s hooves.

  * * *

  Tabor untied a mount from the hitching rail and leapt astride, shouting for Wyrick to let the owner know what had become of the animal. Lilah had a few minutes’ start and a faster horse, but less skill as a rider. He counted on her tiring of the strain of hanging on at a gallop. She would slow her horse after a while and that would give him a chance to catch her shortly. Maybe. He thought grimly of how unpredictable Lilah could be when mad. If she cut across country instead of staying on the road, he would have a hellacious time finding her. Looking for tracks in the dark would slow him down plenty. But even Lilah wouldn’t be foolish enough to take a risk like that.

  Yes she would. Mad as she was, she’d ride over the devil’s horsemen to get away from him. He had a good mind to thrash her when he caught her, or at the very least to give her the dressing-down she deserved. Didn’t she have a thought for danger or the worry she was causing Sarah? He just hoped Chapman wasn’t around anywhere. This opportunity was the sort that bastard would wait for to get Lilah in his clutches again.

  He ran the gamut of curses. That redheaded vixen was more trouble than a dozen women. Thrashing was too good for her. He could be better served by hog-tying her and locking her in his room. He cursed himself for ever letting her out of sight at the dance. At the ranch his men had kept a watch on her when he wasn’t around. Lilah didn’t know that even her walks in Sarah’s garden were done under the watchful eye of a guard or that one of the reasons he’d stayed around the house while Sarah was midwifeing was to avoid leaving her alone.

  He didn’t want her dwelling on the possibility that Chapman would nab her again. No point in her staying scared all the time. Now he wished he had gone ahead and told her how vile the man was, that he was even more unstable than she realized. Hell! He had been selfish in not wanting to spoil her mood. He had counted on the men at the ranch doing a good job of protecting her. And they had. He was the one who had failed, figuring that she was safe enough in a crowd. He could have kicked his backside for being so careless. If that stranger asking about him had been Chapman, she was risking her life to spite him.

  * * *

  Lilah rode at a full gallop until she felt sorry for Tabor’s horse and slowed him to a trot. The wind in her face felt cool and restorative, but even it hadn’t the power to ease her fiery temper. Much of her anger was directed at herself. She was horrified by what she had done to Sally Ann Caufield. Of course she never would have dreamed of doing anything so reckless if the girl hadn’t kept goading her.

  Lovers since her sixteenth birthday, Sally Ann had said. Why, Sally Ann had been just a child and Tabor well into his twenties when...That brute! Did he get sadistic pleasure out of ruining virgins? This was definitely the limit. Just as soon as she saw him again she would tell him so in no uncertain terms.

  Lilah shivered, becoming aware of the black gloom around her. In the distance a coyote yowled, or was it a wolf? For the first time since riding out of Sandy Flats she considered that she didn’t know where she was going or even why she had passed
judgment on Tabor. As experienced as he was at lovemaking, she could hardly have believed him a saint. So why the grief over learning Sally Ann was one of those with whom he had honed his skills? What possible difference could it make to her if he had bedded that overgrown brat? Or promised to marry her? Let them make each other miserable until eternity. She didn’t care.

  What did upset her was being subjected to Sally Ann’s ire. She hadn’t bargained for that. Nothing in the agreement between Tabor and herself included being ridiculed by another of his ladyloves. Oh! How could she even include herself in the same thought with Sally Ann? She wasn’t staying at the Cooke ranch to become a member of Tabor Stanton’s scattered harem. He’d had his fun, taken her virginity, taken her...She gasped at what leapt into her mind. Had she been about to say “heart?” Even a hint of it was utterly ridiculous. She wasn’t jealous of Sally Ann. She didn’t love Tabor. She didn’t want him to ask her to stay with him. She would marry Barrett the way she planned. Nothing would stop her.

  Bristling with renewed indignation, Lilah reined the horse around sharply, determined to ride back to Sandy Flats and demand Tabor release her from the obligation. In the quick turn the horse stumbled in the loose gravel covering the roadbed, and one leg slid out from under him so that he almost went down. Lilah managed to stay in the saddle by grabbing the horn and hanging on. She immediately slowed the animal to a walk. But it was soon apparent that some injury had been done to the steed’s hoof, and Lilah was forced to dismount and attempt a look. Enough moonlight shone down that she could detect a small sharp stone wedged between shoe and hoof. A sigh of despair escaped her. To make the creature go on would be cruel, and she had nothing with which to remove the stone. Another coyote yowled at the moon. Lilah felt just as forlorn. Had there been any use to it, she would have cried. Instead she petted the poor horse and murmured soothing words she had once heard Tabor say. She had really used her head, she lamented. And here she sat, miles out of town, with a lame horse and absolutely no idea if there was a ranch house near. Feeling as if the air had turned inhospitably chill, Lilah led the animal off the road and tied him, but stayed near, finding the horse gave her some sense of security.

  Presently she heard the sound of another horse. Tabor? Surely he would have come after her. She hurried toward the road to flag him down, but stopped short before reaching it. Suppose it was someone else, someone unfriendly. Lilah turned back and looked about for a place to conceal herself.

  “Yo there!” Glee threaded into Chapman’s voice as he spotted Lilah’s horse off the road. Damned if Lady Luck hadn’t winked at him tonight. The horse was lame and Lilah hadn’t had time to get more than a few yards on foot. He reined his mount to a stop.

  From behind the one boulder large enough to hide her, Lilah crouched in the dust. The sound of that voice frosted her blood and turned her limbs to water. Chapman! Suddenly her quarrel with Tabor seemed minuscule, no more worrisome than the buzz of a bothersome mosquito. Dear Lord, help her. For almost nothing she had thrown herself into the gravest danger. She was alone and unarmed. What hope did she have that that fiend would go away without finding her?

  “You hidin’ from me?” Chapman taunted, slipping from his saddle. “Ain’t no point in it. I been waitin’ days for you to be alone again so I could make my move.” He laughed. “Been thinkin’ about strippin’ you naked and doin’ whatever strikes my fancy. That sound good to you, Lilah?”

  Shaking like a wind-whipped leaf, Lilah clapped both hands over her mouth so she wouldn’t cry out in fear and give herself away. That was what he wanted, to frighten her into making a sound that would indicate her location. Praying silently, pleading that by some miracle Chapman would leave or Tabor would come, Lilah shut her eyes, too terrified to face even the darkness.

  The scrape of his boots on the ground, the loud jangle of his spurs, sent her heart into a wild thumping. And then there was silence, silence that stretched into minutes. Chapman was too quiet. Lilah held her hand over her heart, certain the beat of it echoed from the rocks. She ought to hear Chapman’s spurs or the sound of his horse if he rode away. Weighted with fear, her eyelids refused to rise even for assurance that her peril had ended. After a few more seconds she brought them up by force of will and found the night blacker and more ominous than before. Aching with fear, Lilah peeped around the boulder for a look. Her horse stood where she had left him. She saw neither Chapman nor his mount.

  An easier breath flowed into her lungs, but she didn’t forget caution. Chapman might have walked off to look elsewhere. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t be back. Now she bit her tongue to keep from crying aloud. If only he had left his horse in view, she might have a chance of getting to the animal and riding off before he saw her.

  With great care she settled back behind the boulder to think over what she should do. Did she dare make a run for Chapman’s horse? Yes. Yes, if she could spot the animal before leaving her place of hiding. Inching her way around, Lilah turned on her heel, planning to peer out from the other side of the boulder and see if she could spot Chapman’s mount.

  In the midst of her slow turn she met a sight that skewered her heart. Gasping, Lilah stared at a pair of feet in dusty socks and knew in that terrible instant that Chapman had foxed her by slipping out of his boots and easing around the boulder to get behind her. His guttural laugh tightened the knot in her stomach. By degrees she looked up into the cold eyes and the barrel of the gun held in Chapman’s left hand.

  “We’re gonna have us a good time, Lilah.” He smiled diabolically and motioned for her to stand.

  “Tabor’s coming for me,” Lilah countered, holding her fear briefly in check.

  Chapman nudged her toward his horse with his gun. “If he does, he won’t catch me by surprise this time.” He howled with laughter. “But maybe he won’t follow you at all. Appeared to me you two had a nasty spat.”

  “You were at the dance?”

  “Well, no,” he drawled. “I ain’t that stupid. But I was close by and saw that unfriendly partin’. You seemed right anxious to get away from Stanton.” The awful laughter erupted again. “Reckon you been pinin’ after me all this time.”

  “Certainly not,” Lilah spat out in disgust.

  “Don’t make no difference no way,” Chapman went on, unperturbed. “The more you fight, the more I’m gonna like it. Don’t reckon you can do more damage to me than my blade can do to you.” He laughed louder.

  Lilah shuddered. “You won’t get what you want from my father if you hurt me.”

  “Don’t reckon I’ll tell him what shape you’re in until I do.” He looked her over as if she were a head of livestock. “How much is a gal like you worth to an old man? Thousands, I’ll wager. Looks like you’re gonna make me rich and real happy too.”

  She reached the horse Chapman had left near the road. Chapman ordered her to untie the animal and lead him out in the clear, all the while keeping the gun trained on her. Lilah remembered what he had said about tears and gulped hard to keep any from sliding down her face. She cried within. Oh, Tabor! Tabor! Please, you must have followed me. But what if Chapman was right? What if he hadn’t followed? What if he had counted on her cooling down and turning back on her own? If so, he would still be waiting for her in Sandy Flats. She needed a way to stall Chapman, to give Tabor a chance to find them—if he was on the way.

  “My horse is lame,” she said quietly. “I...I’ll have to walk along beside you.”

  “Naw!” Chapman eyed her lecherously. “That wouldn’t be gentlemanly. You’ll have the pleasure of ridin’ double with me. But first I’m gonna send that hoss of yours off to make a false trail—just in case Stanton is close behind.”

  Still holding Lilah in his gun sights, he freed her horse and looped the reins to the saddle horn, then with a heavy limb struck the horse across the flank. Limping badly, the animal bolted across the road and ran off into the night. Lilah’s heart disappeared with him. If Tabor followed that trail first, he might be a long time ge
tting to her.

  Chapman ordered her to mount the horse first. As he climbed up, Lilah noted the difficulty he had using his right hand. Any pressure on the wound was met with a grimace of pain. She was glad of that. He would need his left hand to guide the horse, and that meant he couldn’t use the other one to maul her.

  “Where are you taking me?” she asked weakly, the last of her courage shriveling.

  “Gittin’ anxious for my lovin’, ain’t you?” He sneered. “You won’t have to wait long, darlin’. I found a deserted cabin about two miles off. Got a lamp and some oil and an old cot. All we’re gonna need till morning.”

  Lilah shivered as if she had just been handed a sentence of death. Maybe she had. Chapman needed to keep her alive only until he claimed a ransom from her father. She didn’t doubt her father would pay, but the thought of what such a request would do to him frightened her more than Chapman’s threats. Poor Papa. He would be worried sick. And his heart. Oh, Lord! His heart. Knowing she had been kidnapped by the likes of Chapman would kill him.

  For the first time ever she regretted her scheme of revenge. There might have been other ways to bring those six men to justice. But she had wanted a personal hand in evening the score. Look what it had brought about. She was on the threshold of being responsible for hurting, maybe killing, the very person she had wanted to avenge.

  “I want to write a letter to my father,” she said, unexpectedly. “I don’t want him to know I’m in any danger from you. His health isn’t good. A shock could be fatal.”

  “Won’t make no never-mind to me if he drops dead,” Chapman reported.

  “Well, it should!” Lilah said defiantly. “If he dies there will be no one to pay a ransom. You won’t get a penny.”

  Chapman saw the logic of what she said and agreed she should write a letter to her father. The old man would be quicker to respond to her plea anyway. And a letter was best. Sending such a message in a telegram might stir up suspicion too quickly. A letter was slower, but then he was in no hurry to turn over the girl or make a run with his claim, whatever the outcome might be.