“Don’t, goddammit!” He didn’t want her understanding. He wanted her to turn against him—now—so he wouldn’t try to come back later. “What does it take to make you open your eyes? I’m not what you think I am,” he told her.
“Why are you doing this, Chandos?” she cried. “Isn’t it enough that you’re leaving, that I’ll never see you again? Do you want me to hate you, too? Is that it?”
“You do hate me,” he said darkly. “You just don’t know it yet.”
A chill of premonition crawled up her spine as he unsheathed the knife from his belt. “Are you going to kill me?” she asked disbelievingly.
“I couldn’t do it four years ago, cateyes. What makes you think I can do it now?”
“Then what… what do you mean? Four years ago?” Her gaze was fixed on the knife as he drew the blade across the forefinger of his right hand. “What are you doing?” she whispered.
“If I think you still want me, then the link will never be broken. It must be broken.”
“What link?” Anxiety made her voice crack.
“The link we formed four years ago.”
“I don’t understand—” The blade sliced into his left forefinger now. “Chandos!”
He dropped the knife. Courtney stared as he raised his hands to his face. The two forefingers met in the center of his forehead and moved outward, toward his temples, leaving bright red smears of blood just above his eyebrows. His fingers then came together at the bridge of his nose and slashed downward across his cheeks and met at his chin, leaving more lines of blood.
For a moment Courtney saw only the bloodred lines dissecting Chandos’s face into four parts. But after a moment the pale blue of his eyes began to come through, vivid against the bronze skin.
“You! It was you! Oh, my God!”
She could barely think for the old fear that welled up, and she ran, blindly. Halfway down the hill he caught her. The impact made them both fall, and he took the brunt of it. His arms around her, protecting her, they rolled all the way to the bottom of the hill.
When they stopped, Courtney tried to get up, but he pinned her to the ground.
Fear transported her back to Elroy Brower’s barn.
“Why did you show me? Why?” she cried, terrified. “Oh, God, wipe the blood off! That’s not you!”
“It’s me,” he said ruthlessly. “This is what I am, what I’ve always been.”
“No.” She shook her head wildly in denial, back and forth, back and forth. “No, no.”
“Look at me!”
“No! You took my father. You took my father!”
“Now, that’s one thing I didn’t do. Hold still, goddammit!” He caught the hands beating at him and pressed them down onto her hair, spread out on the ground. “We took only the farmer with us. The rest we left for dead.”
“The farmer.” She groaned, remembering. “I know what the Indians did to him. Mattie overheard people talking about it one time and she told me. How could you be a part of that? How could you let them mutilate him like that?”
“Let them?” He shook his head. “Oh, no, you can’t deceive yourself that way. The farmer was mine. He died by my hand.”
“No!” she screamed.
He might have told her the reason, but he didn’t. He let her struggle against him until she had freed herself, and then he let her run from him, disappearing in the direction of the Bar M. He watched her go, then slowly got to his feet.
He had done what he’d meant to do. Whatever she had felt for him, he had killed. Now he would never know if the life he had to offer her would have been enough. He’d set her free. If only it would be so easy to free himself of her…
Chandos wiped the blood from his face and headed back up the hill. The horses stirred as he approached. They had probably stirred earlier, when the cowhand approached, but Chandos had been too involved with Courtney to hear the man coming. Even now his distraction was so great that he was three feet from the fire before he noticed the fellow hunkered down there. He had never thought to see that man again.
“Easy now, Kane,” the man said as Chandos’s stance took on dangerous meaning. “You wouldn’t shoot a man just ”cause he’s late comin‘ in off the range, would you? I couldn’t very well ignore your fire, could I?“
“You should have, Sawtooth,” Chandos said, a warning in his tone. “For once you should have.”
“But I didn’t. And you’re forgettin” who taught you how to use that gun.“
“No, but I’ve had a lot of practice since then.”
The older man grinned, flashing the even line of teeth that had gotten him his nickname. The story he told was that his teeth were once so lopsided they were more nuisance than help for eating, so he’d taken a saw to them just to see if he could come out with a better chomp.
He was a lean man, but solidly built, in his late forties, with gray hair intruding on the brown. Sawtooth knew cattle, horses, and guns, in that order. The “Bar M foreman, he was about the closest friend Fletcher Straton had.
“Shit, you ain’t changed a bit, have you?” Sawtooth grunted, seeing that Chandos didn’t relax his tense stance. “I couldn’t believe it when I saw that pinto of yours. I don’t forget horses.”
“I suggest you forget you saw him, and me,” Chandos said, bending to pick up the knife he’d dropped earlier.
“I recognized your voice, too,” Sawtooth grinned. “Couldn’t help but hear it, the way you and the woman was shoutin” at each other. Mighty strange the way you put the scare into her. Care to satisfy an old man’s curiosity?“
“No.”
“Didn’t think so.”
“I could kill you, Sawtooth, and be miles from here before they found your body. Is that the only way I can assure myself you won’t tell the old man you saw me?”
“If you’re just passin” through, what’s the difference if he knows?“
“I don’t want him thinking he can use the woman to get to me.”
“Can he?”
“No.”
“You said that too fast, Kane. You sure it’s the truth?”
“Goddamn you, Sawtooth!” Chandos snarled. “I don’t want to kill you.”
“All right, all right.” Sawtooth stood up slowly, his hands outstretched and clearly empty. “If you feel that strongly about it, I reckon I can forget I saw you.”
“And you stay the hell-away from the woman.”
“Now, that’s gonna be kind of hard, ain’t it, seein” as how you’ve left her here?“
“With Rowley. And she won’t be staying long.”
“Fletcher’s gonna want to know who she is,” Sawtooth drawled, watching him carefully.
“He won’t make the connection. Just you keep your mouth shut, that’s all.”
“That why you scared her—so she wouldn’t say nothin”?“
“You’re pressing it, Sawtooth,” Chandos rasped. “But you always did stick your nose into what didn’t concern you. The woman means nothing to me. And there’s nothing she can tell Fletcher, because she doesn’t know who I am. If you change that situation, you’ll only be starting a fire without water to put it out, because I’m not coming back this way.”
“Where you headin”?“
“Goddamn bloodhound,” Chandos hissed.
“That was just a friendly question.” Sawtooth grinned.
“Like hell.” Chandos stalked past him and jumped onto Surefoot. He grabbed the reins of Trask’s horse, saying, “These other two horses are hers. You can take them in or leave them for someone else to hunt down. She’ll probably claim she was thrown, so one of the hands will come looking for them—unless you can catch up with her before she reaches the ranch. But if you do, keep your goddamn friendly questions to yourself, hear? She’s not up to an interrogation tonight.”
As Chandos rode away, Sawtooth stomped out the fire. “Means nothin” to him, huh?“ He grinned. ”Who the hell does he think would believe that?“
Chapter 38
<
br /> LIGHTS flickered in the distance against the night sky. Cattle could still be heard gently lowing. Nothing had changed outside Courtney, though everything had changed inside her. The pain, oh, the pain of knowing she loved a savage… savage Indian!
At that moment, “Indian” meant everything vile and terrifying. A savage butcher! Oh, not him, not her Chandos! But it was true, it was.
Halfway to the ranch, her tears so blinded her that Courtney dropped to her knees and sobbed her heart out in great sobs that tore all the way through her. There was no sound of him following her. There would be no strong arms to comfort her this time, no soothing voice to tell her it was a lie, or at least make her understand. Dear God, why?
She tried to remember the day of the attack at Brower’s farm. That wasn’t easy. She had worked so hard to put it from her mind. But she brought it back, her fear, her terror when the feed box was opened. Believing she was going to die and hoping she wouldn’t beg. And then seeing the Indian—no, not an Indian, but Chandos. She had seen Chandos. But that day he’d truly been an Indian, his hair long and braided, the war paint, the knife. And he’d meant to kill her. His hand twisting in her hair, the terror, and then seeing his eyes, which weren’t the eyes of an Indian. She had only known the eyes didn’t fit that frightening face, didn’t seem at all terrifying, as they should have.
Now she knew why, when she’d first seen the gunfighter, she could entrust her life to him.
Chandos said a link had been formed between them. What did that mean? A link? And why had he been with those Indians that day, attacking, killing?
Courtney stopped crying so hard as more of that day came back. What was it Berny Bixler had said to Sarah about revenge? The Indians had wanted revenge for an attack on their camp. He said Lars Handley’s son John, who had left Rockley so quickly, claimed he and a group of other men had wiped out every man, woman, and child of a band of Kiowas. But the dead Indians must have been Comanches, not Kiowas. They must have been Chandos’s friends. She remembered Bixler saying the Indians wouldn’t stop until they got every one of the men involved. She supposed they were all dead now, unless… Trask! Was he one of them? Chandos had said he was guilty of rape and murder. And the man in San Antonio? Was he one?
Who could Chandos have lost in that massacre to make him kill Elroy Brower the way he had? To make him still lust for revenge after all this time?
“These yours, miss?”
Gasping with shock, Courtney scrambled to her feet.
The man drew closer and she saw old Nelly and the pinto she had never named because she’d realized she wouldn’t get to keep her. Chandos hadn’t taken the mare with him after all, as she’d assumed he would.
“Where did you—find them?” she asked uncertainly.
“He’s gone, if that’s what you’re wonderin”.“
“You saw him leave?”
“Yes, ma’am, I did.”
Why did that make her feel dread? Was it only because Chandos had said he didn’t want to see anyone here? She had no business worrying on his account, not anymore.
“I don’t suppose you know him?” she found herself asking.
“Matteroffactldo.”
She reached for the pinto and mounted, feeling even gloomier. This was just great, just what Chandos didn’t want to happen. If anything came of it, she supposed he would blame her.
“Do you work at the Bar M?”
“Yes, ma’am. Name’s Sawtooth, or that’s what they call me, anyhow.”
“I’m cat—” she began, then corrected herself. “Courtney Harte. I’m not here by choice. I would much prefer going on into Waco and getting a room… They do have hotels, don’t they?”
“Yes, ma’am, but it’s a good four miles.”
“I know, I know,” she said impatiently. “But would you oblige? I’d be most grateful.”
Sawtooth was silent. He wasn’t one to turn down ladies in distress. Fact was, he usually went out of his way to be helpful to the gentler sex. But this one, well, there were just too many unanswered questions. It was more than likely, damned likely, that Fletcher would skin him alive if he found out who’d brought her here, and that Sawtooth had let her slip away.
“Look, ma’am,” Sawtooth said reasonably. “I’m just in off the range. I ain’t had a chance to chow down yet, and you probably ain’t, either. All things considered, tonight’s not the time to be headin” for town. And you must have some reason for comin‘ out to the Bar M?“
“Yes,” Courtney replied, disappointed. “I’m supposed to turn myself over to Margaret Rowley, a woman I don’t even know, simply because he said so. God sakes, I’m not a child. I don’t need a keeper.”
A match flared, and they each got a fairly good look at the other for a second. Sawtooth nearly burned his fingers. He grinned.
“Come on, and I’ll take you in to Maggie.”
“Maggie?”
“Margaret. She’s got her own place out back, though she’s probably still at the big house now. And don’t worry, you don’t have to know Maggie to like her. And I’m sure she’ll take to you.”
“It’s kind of you to say so, but… oh, very well.” Courtney kneed the pinto forward, knowing she had no choice. After a moment she ventured, “Would it be too much to ask if you wouldn’t tell anyone who brought me here, or even that you saw him?”
“Would you mind tellin” me why?“
“Why?” Courtney’s defenses went up. “How should I know why? Chandos doesn’t explain himself. He said he didn’t want to see anyone around here, and that’s all I know.”
“Is that what he’s callin” himself now? Chandos?“
She glanced at him. “I thought you said you knew him.”
“When he was here last, he would only answer to some godawful long Indian name nobody could pronounce or remember.”
“Sounds just like him.”
“You’ve known him long?” he asked.
“No… well, if you take into account… no, that doesn’t… oh, dear, I’m not making much sense, am I? Actually, I’ve known him about a month. He brought me here from Kansas.”
“Kansas!” Sawtooth whistled. “That’s one hellofa long way, beggin” your pardon, ma’am.“
“Yes, it was.”
“Long enough for you two to get to know each other pretty well?” he said casually.
“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” Courtney said in a small voice. “But I found out tonight I didn’t know him at all.”
“Do you know where he’s headin”, Miss Harte?“
“Yes, to—” She stopped, looking at the dark shape of the man riding next to her. For all she knew, Chandos might be a wanted man here. “I’m sorry, but I can’t seem to remember the name of the town he mentioned.”
Sawtooth’s deep chuckle surprised her. “He means that much to you, does he?”
“He means nothing to me,” she assured him haughtily, and he laughed again.
Chapter 39
EVEN before they reached the front yard, Courtney heard the lovely strains of a guitar floating on the night air. And then the big house came into view, brightly lit inside and on the front porch as well, where a group of men were lounging on chairs, railings, and even the wide steps leading up to a large front door. There was laughter and soft bantering accompanying the guitar music. It was a warm scene of comradery, and spoke well for the Bar M. This was obviously a nice place to live.
But Courtney was uneasy when she saw that there were only men on the porch, many men. And the moment they saw her, the music stopped on a discordant note.
As Sawtooth led their horses to the porch, silence reigned. Not a whisper could be heard.
In the stillness, Sawtooth’s laugh grated on Courtney. “Ain’t you saddlebums ever seen a lady before? Goddamn—beg pardon, ma’am-she ain’t no apparition. Dru, get off your tail and go tell Maggie she’s got a visitor—out back, mind you.” A curly-haired young man shot to his feet and backed himself in through the fron
t door, his eyes never once leaving Courtney.
“The rest of you cowpushers, this here’s Miss Harte,” Sawtooth continued. “Don’t know how long she’ll be visitin”. Don’t know if you’ll even see her again, so tip your hats while you got the chance.“ A few men did, while the others continued to stare, making Sawtooth laugh again. ”I ain’t never seen such a bunch of pea brains. Come on, ma’am.“
Courtney managed a quick smile, then gratefully walked her mare to follow Sawtooth around the side of the house. She heard a mad scrambling of boots on the porch and knew if she looked back she would see all those cowboys hanging over the porch railing, staring after her.
“You enjoyed that, didn’t you?” she hissed at Sawtooth, riding just ahead of her.
“I love shakin” the boys up.“ He chuckled, delighted. ”But I didn’t think they’d lose their tongues as well as their brains. You’re a mighty pretty woman, ma’am. They’ll be pokin‘ fun at each other for a month now, “cause not one of ”em had the sense to say howdy when they had the chance.“ They rounded the back of the house. ”Here we are. I expect Maggie’U be along any moment.“
Sawtooth dismounted in front of a cottage that looked like it belonged in the New England countryside instead of the Texas plains. Courtney was instantly charmed by the little flower-lined walkway, shutters at the windows, even flowerpots on the sills. Quaint and lovely, it was out of place behind the huge Texas ranch house. There was short stubby grass in the front yard, with a big old tree on the left side. There was even an arborlike trellis curving over the front door, a scrubby vine trying valiantly to cover it.
“Miss Harte?”
“What? Oh.”
Courtney reluctantly drew her eyes away from the cottage and let Sawtooth help her down from the pinto. He wasn’t an overly tall man, she saw now, and he had a rangy body, but the gray eyes that met hers were kind.
A door closed at the back of the ranch house. “That’ll be Maggie.”
And it was. A small woman came hurrying across the backyard that separated the two houses, pulling a shawl over her shoulders as she moved. There was ample light from the bigger house for Courtney to see the salt-and-pepper hair, the soft, rounded body, and, when Maggie reached them, the bright, lively green eyes.
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