“If I don't marry you, no one will help me find my daughter. Is just a promise good enough, or do you have a priest tucked away in a closet to perform the ceremony before we ride out?”
“Your word will do, Colin,” she replied quietly. What have I gotten myself into? I'm crazy if I go through with this. He'll never forgive me. Maybe it was better this way. A marriage in name only. She would be safe, respectable, secure, while at the same time free from any man's touch, ever again. Even Colin McCrory's. In Eden, she could have the daughter she lost seventeen years ago. With hope and fear both wringing her heart, Maggie waited for Colin to decide.
“All right, dammit. I'll marry you,” he snarled. Turning, he stalked through the door and slammed it.
* * * *
Eden McCrory gazed up at the walls of her jagged brown prison. It was siesta time and the men were mostly sleeping. The grizzled Mexican who cooked for them was rattling pots and pans while Judd sat cleaning his gun near the campfire, ignoring her for the present. The hideout in which they had spent the past days was faced with steep stone, so hard and smooth scarcely anything green grew except for small outcroppings of creosote bush. A small sluggish stream meandered across the flat open floor of the canyon, and scrubby pines and madrono trees lined its banks.
Far across the other side, the vegetation was denser and would afford more cover, even the possibility of climbing up and out of the enclosed valley. But there was easily one hundred yards or more of open terrain between their camp site and that refuge. On foot, she could never make it before one of them rode her down.
If only I could steal a horse while they're sleeping. Wishful thinking. Every night Judd took her to his blankets, and, after committing all manner of disgusting and painful acts on her body, he held her tightly as he fell asleep.
Judd Lazlo was a very light sleeper. She had found that out the first night in the hideout when she sneaked free of his loathsome embrace and crept to the horses. After putting a halter on the fastest of her father's racers, she had prepared to jump onto its back, scatter the rest and ride like hell. But Judd was standing right behind her, silent as a cat. He had seized the reins, laughing at the game for which he had invented all the rules.
`There had been all sorts of other games after that, each uglier and more degrading than the one before. At least, he had not shared her with the other men. Yet. Eden shuddered, thinking of Max Haywood's bloated, cruel face and pale doughy flesh that stank like sour wine. At least Judd bathed and was good-looking.
What difference did it make? She was ruined. Defiled. Her life was over, and now they were waiting for the chance to kill her father. If killing herself would have saved him, she would gladly have done it, but she knew the act would be futile. Colin McCrory was most certainly tracking her even now. No, she must stay alive and think of some way to stop these madmen hired by the Tucson Ring from assassinating their deadliest enemy, her father.
The ring was behind the past decade of prolonged bloody carnage between the Apaches and the whites in Arizona Territory. War was profitable, if one played both ends against the middle. The ring was composed of rich merchants who supplied everything from food and utensils to blankets and beads to the Indians—only most of the items never reached the starving and freezing reservation Apaches and what little did was of such ghastly quality that it was all but worthless. The profits from this were split between the Indian agent and the merchants.
At the same time as they cheated the Apaches, driving them to leave the reservation and go on bloody raids, those same merchants contracted with the Army, supplying it, most of the time with better food and equipment than they sold to the Indians. As long as Apache depredations continued, the United States military would station more troops in Arizona Territory than in all the rest of the country combined.
It had been a highly profitable situation for the contractors in Tucson until Colin McCrory and a small band of reformers from the Interior Department set out to stop the vicious cycle. And now the ring had sent Judd Lazlo and his band of hired killers to eliminate Colin.
Eden's life up until this point had been simple. She became engaged to Edward Stanley on her seventeenth birthday. At first, the betrothal had been very exciting and made her feel grown up, but then she grew faintly dissatisfied. She had agreed to Edward's proposal because she knew it would please her father. Edward supported Colin's views on the Apache question and was a highly successful attorney in Prescott and a member of the territorial legislature. Perhaps, one day he would even be appointed governor. But she did not love him. Oh, he was sweet and attentive enough, even attractive in a starched, cool sort of way; but he was wretchedly henpecked, completely under his mother Sophie's thumb. There was nothing to fire Eden's blood with staid, proper Edward Stanley.
Thinking of the crude, dangerous outlaws who now held her captive, their leader abusing and degrading her body, she realized that enduring Sophie Stanley as a mother-in-law would have been sheer heaven if only she could return to the life she had led before this nightmare began.
“Oh, Edward, sweet, honorable Edward, what I wouldn't give to be strolling down the street with you again...” Eden choked back a sob and forced herself to take these few moments of peace to think, to plan. If only Judd was not always watching her. The others were far less intelligent and observant. Her previous escape attempt would have succeeded if not for their leader. Somehow, she had to remove Judd from the scene, disable him. Then, she would stand a chance of stealing one of the repeating rifles, perhaps even be able to make it to the cluster of rocks on the other side of the open campsite and hold them off until her father arrived.
Judd leaned back against the tree and crossed his bare feet at the ankles, laying his gun aside. Now that he had cleaned and reloaded it, he looked at Eden with those wicked green eyes. He was bare-chested and clad only in his denims. Picking up his boots, he held them up, saying, “Put a little polish on these, will you, Eden, my darling?” A harsh, mocking smile curved his lips.
Knowing refusal would only earn her another beating, she gave him no satisfaction by refusing or showing any emotion as she walked over and took the boots.
“What do you want me to do? We have no polish,” she said tonelessly.
He chuckled wickedly. “Use one of your pretty under things that I tore off you the other night for a rag. Spit-shine them. You've seen the old saddler at your pa's place work leather before.”
Eden turned away, her face scarlet with shame as several of the men chuckled at the mention of her shredded lacy under drawers.
“When you gonna share her with us, boss?” Haywood asked petulantly, rubbing sleep from his puffy little pig's eyes.
“Aw, I couldn't do that, could I darling?” Lazlo asked Eden with mock solicitude. “This fragile little flower belongs to me. Why, it would really hurt her feelings if I was to lose interest in her so soon. After all, she's in love with me, aren't you, Eden?”
“I hate you! I wish you were dead,” she ground out, wanting to fly at him with teeth and nails. Instead, she stood clutching the boots, trembling with fear and fury.
Lazlo shook his head in mock reproof. “You sure are a fickle one, miss high and mighty Eden. A few weeks ago you were singing a different tune, sneaking off from Crown Verde to meet me, telling me how we should go to your pa and ask his permission to get married.”
She could not deny his words. Shame rushed over her in choking waves as she replied, “I was a lovesick schoolgirl. That was before I found out what a lying, deceitful, cold-blooded bastard you are!”
Chapter Three
Lazlo's expression darkened as several of the men began to chuckle. One sweep of his cold green eyes instantly quelled the laughter. Then, he turned back to Eden. “Polish my boots.” His voice was deadly.
Still shaking, she turned and walked across the camp to where his saddlebag lay, filled with all the pretty under things and the fancy dress in which she planned to be married. She had run off to meet Judd Lazlo, th
inking they were going to Tucson for a wedding. She had lied to Eileen, telling her she was visiting neighbors while her father was gone. Her father would never have been so easily fooled, nor would he have let her ride alone.
Of course, she had been deceiving Colin for weeks. Almost from the start. She could still remember the day Judd Lazlo rode to Crown Verde. He had a sly, sexy smile and dazzling green eyes. He was a handsome, mysterious stranger who lived by his guns.
Her father had hired him to stop the trouble at the lumber mill. Judd was dangerous and forbidden and exciting. Everything Edward Stanley was not.
Although Eden had pretended aloofness at first, Judd had subtly pursued her, being careful to keep his interest in her a secret from Colin McCrory. Soon he was stealing kisses that left her breathless and telling her that he loved her, but that if they went to Colin, her father would refuse to let them marry. After all, Judd was just a hired gunman, no one to compete with her rich, influential fiancé. He had led her down the path to destruction one small, clever step at a time until that moonlit night two weeks ago when he despoiled her of her maidenhead.
There had been a dance at a neighboring ranch that night and Edward was unable to squire her because of pressing business in the capital. She had been a petulant, spoiled child, disappointed and angry. After the whole house was asleep, she had sneaked out to meet Judd, who insisted she drink from the unmarked bottle he had brought. He said it was “cordial” but it tasted much stronger, enough to get her slightly tipsy.
Soon all her troubles were forgotten and she was giggling and letting him seduce her beneath the big sycamore by the river. He had been full of tender phrases and soft caresses then, praising her beautiful young body as he undressed her. It had hurt a bit when he actually did the deed, but not all that much. Judd had assured her it was always that way the first time for women. After all her romantic imaginings, Eden had been rather disappointed, although Judd seemed quite pleased with her. Perhaps in time it would get better. Judd said it would. After that night she had felt irrevocably bound to him.
She had begun to search her mind frantically for a way to break her engagement to poor Edward and to explain her feelings to her father. The trouble was, she did not understand her feelings herself. Everything seemed to be moving too fast. Mrs. Stanley announced the betrothal in the Prescott newspapers and arranged a huge party in Eden and Edward's honor without ever consulting her. That night after the engagement ball Judd Lazlo had asked her to run away and marry him.
Like the spoiled young girl she was, Eden had accepted, seeing no way out of an intolerable future. Now, poor bumbling, pompous Edward and even overbearing old Sophie seemed a heavenly alternative. If only she could turn back the clock.
But I can't do that, she thought in misery as she rummaged through her saddlebags and pulled out pieces of her torn undergarments to use as rags for polishing Lazlo's boots. Just thinking of that first night on the trail to Tucson with him made her flinch. Within an hour of leaving the ranch, the runaway lovers met up with Max Haywood, who was leading a string of her father's best racers.
Haywood and Lazlo greeted each other like old friends, and the horrible realization of what she had done—what Judd had done to her—washed over Eden McCrory.
“This man stole from my father. Those are Crown Verde horses,” she had whispered in outrage to Judd.
He had only thrown back his head and laughed. “Well, so they are. Consider it your dowry, Miss High and Mighty Rich Girl. You owe me something for hanging around you like a damned lap dog the past weeks, panting after your skinny little body.”
Her voice had broken in pain and shock. “If you didn't want me, why didn't you just steal the horses and be damned?”
A sly smile had spread across his face. “We want these horses for more than their cash value. They're our change of mounts. You see, Your Highness, we're taking you to a little hidyhole we have in Mexico and we need to make sure your pa don't catch up to us before we get there.”
That was when she realized the full extent of her culpability. Not only had she broken her father's heart by running away, she was risking his very life as well. “That ring of grafters in Tucson—they hired you, didn't they?”
When he had only laughed and leaned over to grab her horse's reins, Eden had used the heavy leather to slash across his face, then wheeled her small, fleet mare around and ridden like the wind. But Judd's big gelding had overrun her in moments. From then on she was his prisoner, and that night he had raped her, while Haywood snickered from the darkness across the campfire.
She held the evidence of that first brutal assault in her hands now—the blouse and camisole he had torn off her body, now rags with which to polish his boots. Rage washed over her in a sickening rush, leaving her so shaken she felt nauseated. Methodically, Eden carried the boots and rags to the stream and knelt by a rotten log to scrub the mud from them. As she worked, she could feel Judd's and the other men's eyes on her back.
Father could be in San Luís by now, asking about me. I have to do something to warn him. She knew about the sentries posted at the opening of the box canyon. As soon as Colin approached, the four gunmen around the campfire would lie in wait, using her as bait until Judd gave the order to spring the trap. He was the clever one, the planner.
Maybe if I could kill Judd... But she had already tried stabbing him with the cook's knife, even coshing him on the skull with a sharp rock. His far greater size and strength had doomed her puny efforts to failure. Just as she was finishing up the second boot, a big hairy centipede crawled from the hollowed-out interior of the log.
Eden stifled a scream and sat very still, watching the poisonous creature make its way toward her. Very slowly and carefully she lay one of Judd's boots down on its side, the open end toward the centipede. It was a common Southwestern ritual, even indoors, to shake out one's boots before putting them on as a precaution. Eden had grown up doing so and knew how deadly those pincer legs' venom could be when sunk into human flesh.
She held her breath while the centipede meandered its grotesque body around the edge of the boot. Would it climb in? Praying fervently, she watched out of the corner of her eye while she continued to work on the other boot.
“What in hell's taking you so long, Eden?” Lazlo yelled.
Just one more minute. Half a minute. The centipede was crawling over the lip of the boot. “I'm almost finished, Judd.” And so are you.
Men did not die quickly of centipede bites. The venom worked slowly and very painfully. Judd would probably kill her, but if the poison finished him before he could trap her father, it would be worth it. With trembling fingers she picked up the boot and walked slowly and carefully back across the camp to where Judd sat.
“Do you want me to put them on you?” she asked sarcastically.
He studied her patrician profile. He had lied when he told her she was skinny and washed out. She was the most beautiful female he had ever bedded. Real quality. And he hated her for it. She had been devastated by his betrayal at first, but then that streak of Scots steel he had recognized in Colin McCrory showed through in his daughter. Judd Lazlo had wanted to break her spirit, to utterly degrade and humiliate her. So far he had failed. Maybe once she saw her precious father's dead body she would snap. He hoped so.
“Give me the damn boots and get your ass over here to fetch me my supper,” he commanded roughly·
Eden set the boots on the ground in front of him and walked away, not daring to look back for fear of giving away her secret.
She had not taken half a dozen steps when a loud oath rent the air. Whirling around, Eden watched Judd roll on the ground, shrieking and cursing as he held his foot. One of the other men rushed over and stamped on the centipede with his booted foot, making certain it was smashed into the dust before he stopped.
His face chalk white, Lazlo glared at Eden with hate-filled green eyes, serpent eyes. “You did this, you bitch! I'll kill you...” Sweat was pouring off his face and his voice
shook with fear and rage.
“You gotta get to a doc, Judd,” one of the men said. The others exchanged looks. This far out in the wilds of Sonora, the chances of Judd Lazlo surviving such a deep puncture wound was practically nil.
“Maybe some whiskey will help,” Haywood suggested, uncorking a bottle.
“You want we should kill her, boss?” a third man offered.
“No,” Lazlo rasped out, calming a bit now. He yanked the bandana from his neck and tied it around his ankle. An angry red set of punctures was already creating swelling on the instep of his right foot. “I'm riding to San Luís. They got a doctor there. You keep her here for me. I got real good plans about how I'll kill her myself. I learned a few tricks from the Apach.”
His snake eyes studied her with feverish intensity as he forced the boot onto his swollen foot, gritting his teeth against the pain. His shirt was soaking wet, plastered to his heavily muscled torso, and his wavy, thick, tan hair hung lankly, framing a face that looked like a death mask. He struggled to his feet and took the reins of the big gelding one of his men had saddled. “Tie her up. If I'm not back in five days, kill her—screw her to death. You all take turns until she's done for.”
With that he swung up onto his horse and hunched over the saddle horn as the big bay bore him toward the mouth of the canyon.
* * * *
The sun was setting, leaving great vivid slashes of magenta and gold against the western rim of the canyon. Colin took the field glasses from Wolf and scanned the opening to the canyon from their hidden vantage point on the far side of the heavily wooded rim. They had climbed all afternoon, following a twisting overgrown trail that Maggie guided them along.
“I see another one, over against that big boulder by the mesquite,” Colin said.
“We need to pick them off before we hit the camp,” Wolf replied, studying the terrain with the practiced eye of his Apache forebears.
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