His tongue delved into her warmth, deepening the kiss even more, and she locked her fingers in his hair as she surged upward seeking her own release, whispering his name against his skin.
Chapter Fifteen
Jessica felt a shudder pass through Kaed's right arm. She opened her eyes to find him watching her, studying her face. She lifted her hand to brush the hair from his eyes, and he slowly turned his head and kissed her palm.
As the tremor ran through him, he moved off of her and lay beside her on his back. She watched as he absently stretched his elbow and upper arm.
"Was it worth it?"
He grinned. "Every bit of it."
He opened his arm to her, and she moved to rest her head on his shoulder. They lay together silently for a moment. Kaed's gaze went to the low-burning fire, and the quilt Jessica had draped across the backs of two chairs to dry. She'd washed it for the third time today, trying to get the blood out of it.
"I think I pretty much ruined your quilt, Jessi. Bleedin' all over it like I did. I'm sorry."
Jessica gave a short laugh and waved her hand dismissively. "You're what's important, Kaed. Not the quilt. My Grandma Beckley always said—"
"Beckley?"
"Yes. My father's mother. She made the quilt for me." She felt the sudden tension in his body. "Kaed? Am I hurting you?"
"No. I'm all right," he said. "Any relation to Mitch Beckley?"
She smiled. "He's my brother. Why? Do you know him?"
Kaed closed his eyes, suddenly quiet.
Her smile faded. "What's wrong?
"Christ, Jessi." His voice was graveled.
Her world went dark. "Kaed, what—what's happened? Is he…dead?" What else could it be? From the look on Kaed's face, she couldn't imagine anything else. But she could barely bring herself to ask the question. To say that word. Mitch had been her favorite of all her brothers. She hadn't seen him in over two years.
Kaed nodded. "Yeah. I'm sorry, Jessi. He's gone."
"No!" Like a child, she put her hands to her eyes, as if to hold the tears back, wiping furiously before the wracking sobs overcame her.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart." Kaed pulled her close to him, and let her cry. "He was one of us. A marshal."
She nodded against him. After a few minutes, she said, "He always said he would be."
"He was a damn good one. But he took off alone, after Fallon and his bunch."
"Alone? But why?" She lifted her head to look at Kaed. "Tell me everything, Kaed. I need to know. Don't pick and choose what you think I can handle."
He sighed. "I had just come in from a job in the Territory. Stopped in the office there in Fort Smith to pick up my pay. There was a young marshal just happened to be in there keeping the front desk for a few days, name of Frank Hayes.
"He told me Mitch had been in that morning and said he was headed north after Fallon's Brigade. I asked who was going up with him, and Hayes told me Mitch had said he was going alone."
"Why would he do something so crazy?"
"I wondered the same thing. He was your brother. I was hoping you could tell me."
She shook her head. "Mitch was the youngest boy in our family. I suppose that was why he always felt like he had something to prove."
"I followed him north, trying to catch him, to make him wait for back-up, but I was too late. He found Fallon before I caught up to him. They…killed him."
After a moment, Jessica came up on both elbows, her hair falling about her shoulders. "They tortured him, didn't they? That's what you're not saying." She didn't wait for his response. "I'm strong, Kaed. You can be honest about it. They must have done to him what they did to Billy. And to you."
Kaed gritted his teeth and closed his eyes. Intuitively, Jessica knew he was seeing it all in his mind again. "I couldn't help him," he said slowly. "I was alone."
"Please, tell me the rest." Jessica's voice was low.
"Fallon had taken Standing Bear's granddaughters. Said he had a buyer for them, some rich son-of-a-bitch who likes to sleep with kids. Virgins only. But some of Fallon's men raped the girls while he was gone. So, he killed the men who were involved."
"His own men?"
Kaed gave her a grim look. "He's one crazy bastard. Doesn't care who he kills as long as it suits his purpose at the time."
Jessica's mind raced forward. "The girls, what happened to them?"
Kaed glanced away. "Fallon figured there were several of us out there, as back-up…waiting for the right time to attack his camp. He didn't have any way of knowing Mitch had just come out on his own after the whole damn bunch of them. Hadn't told anyone except Frank Hayes. Hadn't gotten official orders." He fisted his bandaged right hand as he spoke, and Jessica reached for it, caressing it gently until he unclenched it and looked back at her, the lines in his face relaxing.
"Mitch was always what Papa called a hot head. It doesn't surprise me he didn't follow the procedure, Kaed."
Kaed stared into the fire. "Fallon called for any other marshals to come in. He held a knife to White Deer's throat, cut her a little. Christ, Jessi, she was a kid! Twelve years old. She was afraid; but she was trying so damn hard not to show it."
Jessica shivered. "He killed her?"
Kaed blew out a deep, disgusted breath. "No. I came on in, at that point. Gave myself up for the girls, hoping to bargain for their lives somehow. One of Fallon's men took my pistol, tossed it down to the ground. I spoke a few minutes with White Deer, but I had no idea she would…" His voice trailed away and Jessica lay her head down gently on his shoulder again, waiting for him to continue.
His fingers threaded absently through her hair. "She went for my gun." His voice was husky, ragged.
"To try to kill Fallon?" Jessica asked softly.
Kaed slowly turned tormented eyes to her. "No, Jess." He hesitated. "No. She meant to keep her honor, and protect her little sister from any further harm. She did the bravest thing she knew." His voice was low, haunted with the memory. "She shot Two Stars, then killed herself."
"Oh, my God." Jessica's eyes filled with tears. She laid her head against his shoulder again. Her hand opened across the newly mending skin high on his side.
They were silent a moment, and Kaed finally went on in a flat voice.
"Fallon was going to bury them all together, the girls and the men, so it would look like he'd served up his own brand of justice—punished the men for killing the girls." He gave a mirthless chuckle. "Seems it wasn't enough to just outright kill them for the rapes. So he spent a while torturing them. And when he was done, he killed them." He took a steady breath. "Then, he started on me.
"Standing Bear's warriors fought Fallon's men. They killed twelve, according to what he told me, but they didn't get Fallon. He ran…as usual." He shook his head. After a moment, he said, "They brought me here, and you know the rest."
As Kaed fell silent, Jessica's mind rolled and tumbled, filled with thoughts she couldn't organize. The room was mockingly peaceful, the sound of their breathing and the occasional crackle of the fire the only noise. Her brother was dead. Mitch was gone. Unable to bear the quiet a moment longer, Jessica spoke. "What did they do with Mitch?"
"Standing Bear buried him."
"The place must not be far from here." She followed Kaed's gaze to the fireplace, watching the flames jump and dance. "I'd like to put flowers on his grave."
"Yeah. We will. Soon as I get back." He kissed the top of her head.
"Get back? But—"
"Fallon's still out there, Jessi. I'm going after him, if Standing Bear doesn't get to him first."
Alarm filled her. "You aren't well enough!"
"But I will be. Soon."
She lay down, pillowing her head on his shoulder, making no reply. After a moment, she drew in a shaky breath, trying to keep from crying.
"I've got to go, Jessica, as soon as I can stay in the saddle. There was something else Standing Bear told me." He lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him through her tears. "Fa
llon's got two more girls, and their mother. I can't let it happen again."
Chapter Sixteen
"Tom! Jack! Y'all come quick!"
The marshals had settled in for a few hours' rest when Travis Morgan's call echoed through their camp.
Instantly, they were all on their feet, wiping early sleep from their eyes, guns drawn. Morgan ran into the clearing.
Sellers grasped Morgan's arm, looking him up and down for blood or injury as Morgan stood, panting and breathless before him.
"You all right, Trav?"
"Yeah, I'm okay. I found it. Their campsite."
"Get your breath, son," Sellers murmured. He knew Travis meant a cold camp. If anyone had still been there, he wouldn't have been shouting.
"Where?" Eaton asked, holstering his gun. He reached for his boots and pulled them on.
"Let him catch his breath," Jenkins said.
"Oh, Jesus and Mother Mary!" Hayes' eyes were wide and he peered at something just past where the other four stood. "Look!"
They all turned to see an opossum at the edge of their camp, slinking into the darkness, carrying something in its mouth.
"Aw, Frank, that there little ol' opossum ain't a-gonna hurt you. It's just takin' some food back to its young 'uns, is all."
"No, Jack. That ain't food. That's—" Sellers began, then stopped, wondering if his eyes deceived him.
"A hand," Morgan finished. He glanced back over his shoulder.
"Come on," Sellers muttered grimly. "Let's go see what's left of that camp."
It didn't take long to discover who the missing hand belonged to. The marshals had brought along their small camp shovels, and by the light of a lantern they quickly unearthed the shallow mass grave that held the men Andrew Fallon had executed. One of the reeking bodies was, indeed, missing a hand.
"I'll never eat opossum again."
Sellers turned a withering glare on Frank Hayes. "You only think that cause you got a full belly, boy. You get hungry enough, opossum stew'll start lookin' mighty good."
Hayes turned away and walked across the little clearing, past the ashes of the long-dead campfire. Tom glanced at him, watching as he leaned against one of the huge old black oak trees, taking deep, slow breaths. He finally sank to his knees and vomited.
Tom suspected the young marshal's sickness wasn't all due to the odor of death that clung to this place, or the gruesome things he'd witnessed. He knew Hayes was sick to his very soul for what he might be responsible for—Kaedon Turner's death.
Tom stopped digging and watched as Hayes lifted his head. Something had caught his eye in the moonlight. Tom's gaze followed to what Frank had seen under the black oak tree.
Unsteadily, Frank rose to his feet and walked the few steps toward the bit of brightness.
Tom's mind rejected what he thought he saw as Frank stumbled forward. Another mound of dirt. Another grave. But smaller and deeper than the pit that held the other three men.
Tom walked toward Frank as the younger man bent to pick up the gleaming piece of metal. Tom took it from Frank's shaking hand.
A badge. U.S. Deputy Marshal. He dropped it, as if it were hot. Frank collapsed beside the mound, his legs disappearing beneath him. "God!" He picked up the badge and clutched it tightly. The jagged metal cut his flesh, blood pooling unheeded in his palm.
"Holy shit," Tom muttered, then, "Trav, come on over here. We got somethin' else."
Travis took one look at what Hayes' crimson grip contained and began to dig wildly at the mound of dirt. He made a strangled sound in the back of his throat.
"Slow down, Travis," Tom said after a minute. "Whoever's down there ain't gonna be alive when we uncover 'em, anyway."
The grave was much deeper than the other one had been, but it didn't take long to turn it with the four men working as quickly as they could. Hayes wasn't good for anything, Tom noticed, stopping for a moment to watch the boy. He sat blankly staring ahead, silent tears making muddy tracks down his face.
"Looks like there's just the one body," Jenkins said, breathing heavily from the exertion.
"Thank God," Tom said.
"It's not Kaed." Travis panted. "It's Beckley."
"It's not him?" Hayes raised his eyes to Tom's for verification.
"No. It ain't." Tom began shoveling the dirt back across what was left of the plaid shirt. "But that don't mean Kaed's alive. Could just mean we ain't found him dead yet." He stopped and laid a hand on Hayes's shoulder, bending low beside him. "Ever'body makes mistakes, Frank. I know I've made my share. You learn from 'em. Don't mean we all hate you for it."
"If we find Marshal Turner dead, it don't matter, Tom. It just don't matter how you, or Jack, or Harv, or even Travis thinks about me." He nodded his head. "I'll know I murdered him, sure as I put a bullet in him."
Tom's gut clenched at the haunted, hollow look the youngster gave him. So young, he thought. Had he ever been as young, as green, as Frank Hayes? As naïve about the world around him?
The youngster was going to have to come to grips with it on his own. In his own mind, he was a murderer. Tom knew, in this business, there were no guarantees. But Hayes was new, and inexperienced. And Trav had put all kinds of ideas in the boy's head. From the looks of him, Tom thought, he might have decided marshaling wasn't the life he wanted for himself after all.
"Let's take care of this," Tom muttered, nodding toward the partially unearthed graves. "We'll get some sleep, head out early." He tapped Frank's shoulder. "Go on back to camp, son," he said quietly. "We'll finish up here."
Chapter Seventeen
Tom hadn't slept more than a half-hour all night. He was up before the sun, as were the others. With few words spoken, they'd saddled up and headed north again until they came to a halt at a wide place in the creek that meandered along the trail.
Across from them, on the opposite side of the water, Standing Bear's mounted braves sat, making no move to come forward. The marshals carefully kept their hands clear of their guns.
Harv turned to look at Tom from where they sat on the creekbank. "Well, what do we do?"
"Trav and I'll ride over and parley with 'em," Tom said in a low voice. He'd dealt with Standing Bear before. He turned, nodding to Morgan, and they rode forward slowly.
As they approached, Tom raised his hand to Standing Bear. The warrior chief saluted him in the same way.
"Sellers. Morgan." He nodded. "You are searching for Wolf?" He gave a ghost of a smile as Tom nodded. No matter how many years passed, Tom could not forget that the Choctaw had bartered for Kaed and his siblings, had kept them from the white world. And that Standing Bear had all but raised them.
"That we are, Standing Bear. If you've got news of Kaed we'd sure appreciate hearing it."
"He was wounded by Fallon's men, but he lives."
Alive! Tom was relieved, but from the chieftain's words, he knew he still had reason to worry. When he spoke again, his voice was grave. "How bad hurt is he, Chief?"
Standing Bear shook his head. "Bad. He lives, only because Fire Eyes has cared for him."
"Fire Eyes?"
Standing Bear motioned them to follow. "You will understand when you meet her."
Left with no choice, Tom turned, waving the others across the creek, and they followed the Choctaws through the woods.
* * * * *
Kaed sat on the front porch cleaning the Henry repeater. Jessica was preparing their lunch, and he smiled as he listened to her humming. She was happy. So was he. For the first time in years.
He felt them before he saw them, before he heard them. Riders in the woods. Friend or foe?
"Jessica."
She put her head out of the front door and gave him a sunny smile that quickly faded.
"What's wrong?"
"Take the baby and stay inside."
She picked Lexi up, disappearing inside the house.
"And bring me the—"
Before he could finish, she thrust the box of shells out the door. He took it from her
and grinned at the way she'd read his mind. He reached to take a handful of the shells, loading the gun left-handed with practiced efficiency, despite the bandaging around his right wrist.
Jessica disappeared inside without a word, but he heard her behind him in the front entry, loading the shotgun.
He stood up, cradling the Henry in his left arm, his right arm still not mended. Still useless. His lips compressed. Of all the times to be crippled up. He was almost as fast left handed as he was with his right, but it sounded like several horses, close to the same number of men Fallon had.
And he was only almost as fast, left-handed.
The horses drew closer, and Kaed began to breathe easier, hearing the dull sound of unshod hooves upon the bracken-strewn, woodsy earth. Not the mounts of white men. These belonged to the Choctaw. Still, he had to be sure.
Standing Bear and his warriors rode in first. Kaed sighed in relief, lowering the rifle.
"Thought you'd be long gone from these parts, old friend." Kaed stepped off the porch and stood the Henry by the steps.
Standing Bear's eyes shone with laughter as he brought his mount close to the porch. "I thought the same of you. Can it be you heeded my words, Wolf?"
Kaed flashed him a grin. "I always did, didn't I?"
"I had to lead your friends to you. Without you as their tracker, they wander about with no direction."
Kaed laughed at Standing Bear's slap at the marshals who rode behind him.
"Kaedon Turner, you son-of-a-bitch!" Jack Eaton drew his horse to a halt and dismounted, the others following suit. Eaton, Sellers, Morgan and Jenkins all crowded close around Kaed.
Sellers reached up gruffly to brush Kaed's hair away from his forehead, revealing the nasty gash on the mend.
"What'd that bastard do to you, son?" His voice was low and tight.
Kaed gave Sellers a slow smile. "I'm all right, Tom."
"Fallon give you that broken arm?" Jenkins nodded toward the splint at Kaed's wrist, the bandaging to his elbow.
Recognizing the hard light in Jenkins' eyes, Kaed said mildly, "Now Harv, you know Fallon doesn't give these things away for free. I earned it, fair and square."
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