Jim looked sly and tried to make his voice sound honest, even coaxing. “Now, nobody said nothing about killing you.”
“This is just a friendly meeting, is it?”
“All we want is them papers.”
“Of course. I am sure the Martins would appreciate a witness to their crimes.”
“No need to stir up trouble, is there? You just give us what we want and trot on back to Saint Louis.”
“You have just killed a man. You killed two others in Saint Louis. You stuck a gun in my face and tried to kill me a second time that very same day. Forgive me if I question your sudden mercy.”
“Just shut your damned mouth,” snapped Jim as he yanked her out of the chair and shoved her toward the cook stove in the corner of the large room. “Make us something to eat.”
Pete set some bacon, beans, and flour on the rough counter next to the sink pump and went back to searching through the bags. Deidre sighed and began to make some supper. There was always the chance she could find some better use for hot food and heavy pots than to feed the two men. The fact that they wanted to eat first also bought her a little more time, and she would be a fool to toss that away by being stubborn and argumentative.
As she prepared a pot of coffee, she found her concern for Tyrone rushing to the fore of her mind. She desperately wanted to believe the wound he had suffered was not a fatal one, that she had not watched his dead body being taken away to be left unburied in the icy woods. It was probably fanciful and self-deceiving, but she could not shake the feeling that she would somehow know if he had died.
Sternly telling herself that Tyrone’s fate was not, and could not, be her concern now, she struggled to keep all thought of him from her mind. If he had survived, if he had only been knocked unconscious by his wound, he would take care of himself. He would also expect her to try to take care of herself. If some miracle happened, and Tyrone not only lived but was strong enough to come after them, she wanted to be strong enough and calm enough to be of some help.
Although she had no appetite, she forced herself to eat with the men. Watching them shove the food into their mouths was pure torture, but she struggled not to let them see her disgust. They had kept too close an eye on her as she had prepared the meal, obviously seeing how easily she could cause them trouble with the items she had used to cook their food. Deidre was dismayed to see that they had enough wit to understand even that much. It did not bode well for her chances of making an escape.
“We didn’t find them papers in your bags,” said Jim as soon as he had finished eating.
“Looked through all of them carefully, did you?” she murmured as she cleaned the dishes.
“Real careful. So, where are they?”
“I told you, Tyrone has them.”
“And I still don’t believe you.” He walked over to stand next to her.
“Then maybe you ought to search the bags again.” She tried to edge away from him.
“I got me a few interesting ways of making you tell me the truth.” He grabbed her by the arm, his hold so tight she almost cried out.
“Maybe I do know where they are. Why not take me to Paradise and let me tell the Martins myself? I didn’t take on this job out of the goodness of my heart, you know. I had expected to get paid. Well, the Martins’ money is as good as the Callahans’.”
Deidre could not believe that he actually took a minute to consider what she had just said. She had found it nauseating simply to voice such sentiments, but it was clear that such treachery made perfect sense to him. Then his eyes narrowed and she feared there was some look on her face that told him she was lying. Or, worse, he had the wit to realize that not everyone was as crooked as he was. If he believed her to be honest, one who kept her word, there would be no tricking him with lies and evasions.
“There’s a thought,” said Pete. “Gotta admit, I ain’t all that comfortable with killing a woman, especially not one who could keep us both warm all the way back to Paradise.”
“She could, but I think she’s lying again,” muttered Jim. “Them other two men weren’t willing to deal even when they knew we were ready to shoot them and she’s one of them. She’s that fool Irishman’s daughter, ‘spect she is just as honest. Hell, if she was so damned willing to change sides, why’s she been fighting us so hard all this time?”
“I didn’t know you’d be willing to deal,” she said. “I thought you just wanted to get the papers for yourself, the papers and all of the reward for them.”
“Yeah, and we can still do that.”
“If you kill me, you won’t ever find those papers.”
“You got ’em. I know you do, or you wouldn’t be trying so hard to get to Paradise and Callahan wouldn’t been trying so hard to get there, either. Now, you tell me where they are and maybe me and Pete will go easy on you.”
Deidre knew it probably would not gain her anything, but pure frustration made her punch him in the nose. He howled, let go of her, and grabbed his nose. She made a dash for the door, but, even as she got it unlocked, Pete reached her. He shoved her away from the door and, as he locked it again, she kicked him, hard, in the back of his knee, then darted over to the fireplace to grab the heavy iron poker. Legs spread and the poker held firmly in both hands, she faced the two men. It gave her some small sense of triumph when she saw how Pete limped and Jim’s nose was bleeding.
“Now, it ain’t smart to be making us mad,” said Jim as he inched closer to her.
“Why? You can’t kill me twice,” she snapped, swinging the poker at him and making him dance back a few steps.
“No, but it can make us feel real inclined to kill you slow and painful like.”
“Dead is dead.”
“A quick death is better.”
“Well, I have no intention of dying. I have a few things I intend to make you pay dearly for. My father’s death, for one. And Bill’s. And Tyrone’s. You two are long overdue for a hanging.”
“You can’t kill us both,” said Pete, sidling around until he flanked her on the right. “Not with that, you can’t.”
“I can hurt you enough to let me get out of here,” she said, and watched the man frown as he kept a wary eye on her weapon.
“No, I don’t think so,” drawled Jim.
She cursed when they both lunged at her. Although she got in a few good hard blows, raising curses and drawing blood, Deidre knew it was a lost battle. She should have waited, should have judged her time and chances better, but they had been closing in and she felt trapped. No clear route of escape had presented itself and she knew that now none would.
Jim ducked a swing of the poker and then grabbed her by the arm even as Pete threw himself at her. She hit the floor hard, her head grazing the hard brick hearth. Dazed, she stared up at Pete who was crouched over her, Jim peering over his shoulder, and she wondered how everything could have gone so terribly wrong. Unless some miracle happened, her father and Bill had died for nothing, and so had Tyrone, and so would she. The Martins had won. It seemed so terribly unfair.
Chapler Eight
A SEARING PAIN IN his side slowly pulled Tyrone out of the blackness. Then he became aware of the cold. He eased himself upright in the saddle, sweating with the effort and then shivering as the sweat was brutally dried by the cold air. He was amazed he was not dead, even more amazed that he was still in the saddle. With a shaking hand he patted the icy, damp neck of his mount, worried that the animal was close to collapsing, and tried to figure out where he was.
It took a moment for his pain-clogged mind to sort out the facts, but he finally realized he was not that far from where he and Deidre had been heading. He thanked God that their attackers had obviously not taken any time to come looking for him, for his horse had run only slightly off the trail. He would have been an easy target. Grimacing as he pulled a shirt out of his saddlebag and struggled to wrap it tightly around his waist to ease the bleeding in his side, he suspected he still was an easy target.
Deidre
needed him, he reminded himself as pain and weakness made him sway slightly in the saddle. Tyrone prayed she was still alive, then pushed that fear aside, for it only added to his weakness, clouding his mind with worry when he needed it at its sharpest. The men would want the papers before they killed her and he was sure Deidre had the sense to buy as much time as she could. Glancing at the sun riding so low in the sky, he knew he had already lost about an hour, maybe more. Deidre might not be dead yet, but she might already be wishing she was.
Gently he turned his horse, riding back onto the trail he had originally meant to follow. Good luck was riding on his shoulder for now, he decided as he found the tracks of the men who had taken Deidre. They were headed straight for the cabin. It troubled him that they knew about the place. How much else did they know? Had the Martins somehow figured out the exact route he was taking? It would mean that, even if he was fortunate enough to get them out of this fix, he and Deidre would no longer have any safe haven.
Pushing aside all thoughts of future problems, centering his mind on the one he had to solve right now, Tyrone cautiously approached the cabin. He saw the light from one small window flickering through the trees and stopped. Softly promising his weary, chilled horse a warm stall soon, he dismounted and tied the horse to a tree. For a moment he sagged against the tree, fighting to quell the dizziness that had overtaken him. He was as weak as a newborn kitten. It was not going to be hard to save Deidre, it was going to be impossible.
“No, dammit, I can’t let the bastards win,” he muttered as he pushed himself up straight and took several deep breaths to try to stop the shaking of his body. “I should’ve never let her talk me into bringing her along, either,” he grumbled as he started toward the cabin, careful to keep to the shelter of the trees.
It was not thoughts of the ranch, of his family, or even of losing to the Martins that kept him putting one foot in front of the other, however, and he knew it. It was the thought of Deidre in the hands of those two men. Although he had not seen who had attacked him, his gut told him it was Jim and Pete. Those two would not kill her quickly, even if they got their hands on the papers they sought. They would use her first, and the thought of either of the men laying a hand on Deidre gave Tyrone the strength to keep moving despite the blood that continually dripped from his side, staining the snow.
He paused at the edge of the wood, made sure there was no one outside on guard or standing in the window, and raced for the side of the cabin. Once there, he leaned against the rough log wall and tried to catch his breath. Tyrone knew he did not have much time to rest. Even in the dim light of sunset the bloody marks he had left upon the snow were visible. If anyone came outside, it would not take them long to know someone was there. The only chance he had was if he could catch them by surprise.
Inching along the side of the building, he made his way around to the back. A tiny window near the back door drew him. Before he could even try to get inside, he had to see how many were in there and how they were placed. Cautiously, he peered inside, and silently cursed. Deidre was trying to hold the two men back with a fireplace poker. He had to admire her bravery, but he did not think she could hold them off for long.
Even as the thought passed through his mind, they jumped her. Tyrone resisted the urge to immediately try to go to her aid. He hated it, but he knew he would stand a better chance of helping her if both men had all of their attention fixed upon her. That meant he had to let them start the assault they so clearly intended. He hoped she would forgive him for that if she ever found out.
* * *
Deidre cursed and tried to throw Pete off, but there was no moving the man. He simply pinned her to the floor more securely and then grinned. It was a disgusting smile, she thought with a mounting fear as she looked up at him, and not just because he had green teeth. It held both lust and violence behind it. She knew what these men were going to do to her and she felt herself begin to shrink inside with terror and a deep wretchedness. After what she had shared with Tyrone, the thought of either of these men putting one hand on her made her stomach clench with nausea. They would taint the beautiful memories she had of her time with Tyrone and she thought that might be the greatest of their crimes. Then she remembered that they would probably kill her when they were done and began to feel rage rise up through her fear and despair. She nursed it, pulled it forth with every ounce of will she had, for it cleared her head.
“Get off me, you great smelly swine,” she snapped, and found some enjoyment in the way his eyes widened in surprise.
“You oughta think twice before you insult us, girlie,” Pete snapped as he wrapped his hands around her wrists and pinned her hands over her head.
“It takes no thought at all. You are incredibly easy to insult.”
“I’m beginning to think you’re a stupid bitch,” snapped Jim, his eyes so narrowed with fury they were mere slits in his pockmarked face. “You know what me and Pete are going to be taking now. I think you oughta be a little nicer. Maybe then we’d go easy on you.”
“Make it easy for you to rape and kill me? Now, that would be stupid.” She tried not to flinch as Pete tore at the buttons of her gown with his dirty fingers.
“We just mean to give you some of what that Callahan feller has.”
“For you to compare what you’re going to do to anything Tyrone has done has got to be nearly a blasphemy. Maybe if you took a bath, you could get a woman now and again without throwing her to the ground.”
“Dammit, woman, you ain’t got the sense God gave a goose.” Jim shook his head, a look of amazement mixing unpleasantly with the fury twisting his coarse features. “Now, where are them papers?”
“Go to hell.”
“Come hold the bitch down, Jim,” said Pete, “so’s I can get these damned clothes off her skinny hide.”
Deidre shuddered as Jim took over the holding of her wrists and Pete roughly groped her breasts. She cursed herself for that sign of weakness. Although she was not sure how long she could keep up her act of bravado, pride urged her to try to cling to it. There was not much she could do to stop them from profaning her body, but she really wished she had the fortitude not to let them know how much it hurt her. Deidre knew there would come a time when she could no longer fight the horror of what was happening to her. She just prayed that they would not see it when she finally broke.
As Pete yanked her dress off, never missing a chance to grope her as he did, she felt herself retreating from it all. Her mind curled back, slipping into a dark corner to hide. She tried to fight that retreat of her senses even though a large part of her welcomed the chance to disassociate herself in some way from the violence she was being subjected to. If she let herself hide in that way, she might miss some chance to help herself, before or after the rape. Death would follow the debasement of her body and she wanted to have enough sense left to try to fight that, too. If that meant she had to be fully aware of the violation of her body, then that was the price she would pay to try to stay alive.
“God, she might be skinny, but she’s got real pretty little titties,” said Pete as he yanked open her chemise.
“I will see you dead for this,” she said, as astonished by the coldness of her voice as Pete looked to be.
“And just how are you going to do that?” asked Jim, tightening his hold on her wrists until she had to bite back a cry of pain. “Gonna haunt us, are you?”
“Yes. If you succeed in killing me, that is exactly what I will do, for every day of your hopefully very short lives. Right up until the Devil leads you down into hell. But maybe you are forgetting the Callahans. I suspect they will be eager to make you pay for Tyrone. If I can’t make you pay for this, they will.”
“The Martins will take care of them,” said Pete.
“Yeah, and they don’t know who we are,” said Jim.
“Don’t they?” She was surprised when both men paused in their attack to scowl at her. “What makes you so sure of that? Are you positive that neither Tyrone
nor I have gotten word to one of his brothers about you?”
“Don’t matter,” Pete finally said, after scowling in silence for a moment. “We took care of one Callahan. We can take care of the others if we have to.”
“Stop arguing with the stupid bitch and get her drawers off,” snapped Jim.
“Think her hair’s red down there, too?” asked Pete with a chuckle.
“We’ll know in a minute.”
Even as Pete began to tug at her drawers, a loud bang sounded. Both men moved faster than she had thought them capable of. Deidre rolled out of their reach, then quickly sprang to her feet. She gaped right along with them when she saw Tyrone standing just inside the back door. She could see the blood on him, see how pale he was, and wondered where he had found the strength to kick open the back door. Then she shook free of her astonishment and looked around for a weapon so that she could help him if he needed it.
She grabbed the fireplace poker again even as the first shot was fired. Clutching her weapon, she pressed herself up against the rocky side of the fireplace in an attempt to shield herself from the flying bullets. Pete cursed as a bullet tore through his arm while he ran for the door. Jim shot at Tyrone, who had taken shelter behind the heavy cast-iron sink and kept him pinned down as Pete struggled to unlock the door.
When Pete threw the door open, Deidre cried out in dismay. It looked as if, yet again, the two men were going to get away. Tyrone could not get an accurate shot because Jim was keeping him pinned in his corner by the sink. She wished she had a gun. When both men disappeared out the door, Jim half carrying Pete and then slamming the door shut behind him, Deidre waited for Tyrone to go after them. When Tyrone finally appeared, making his unsteady way to the door, she changed her mind. Not only did she not want him back in the line of fire, but he did not look well.
“Wait!” she called, but he was already out the door.
Cursing softly, she hurried after him. The muted sound of horses galloping over the snow reached her ears as she stepped outside. Just as she wondered where Tyrone had gone, a shot was fired close to her and she screeched in surprise. After nearly throwing herself halfway back inside the house, she then thought to look for who had fired a gun. Since Pete and Jim were obviously riding away as fast as their horses would take them, it could not have been either of them. Peering out the door, she saw a shadowy figure slumped against the side of the house only steps from the door.
A Stockingful of Joy Page 8