The door swung open and she peered within. The shutters were in place, and the interior of the building was in shadow. But with the door open, she could see the milk pail on the bench, and there beside it was an empty crock, covered with a clean towel, awaiting the rich cream. She stepped inside, smiling as she thought of the task ahead, when she would wield the dasher and turn the bounty of cream into butter. There was satisfaction in the making of it, joy to be found in the chores she’d thought wearisome in her father’s house.
Beau…he made the difference. The now-familiar warmth rose within her as she thought of him. As she bent to pick up the pail, she hesitated, a chill making her shiver. From behind her a sound caught her attention and she half whirled, only to feel the strength of a man’s arm around her throat.
“You shoulda stayed out of here, Miss Maggie.” From the corner of her eye she caught sight of a whiskered chin and then her eyes closed as his grip tightened.
“I was only waitin’ until the coast was clear,” he muttered against her head, and she caught the scent of whiskey on his breath.
“Rad?” The name whistled from her throat, and she felt her strength leave her as he laughed, a low, evil sound that brought to mind her father.
“You didn’t expect to see me, did you?” he taunted. “Neither did Beau or the rest of them. I snuck in here while ya’ll ate your dinner.”
She was limp, her eyes closed, and his grip loosened a bit. “I don’t want to throttle you, girl. Just be quiet till we’re sure the coast is clear. Then I’ll get my gear from the bunkhouse and be on my way.”
“They’re going to be in the corral,” she whispered hoarsely. “They won’t see you if you go around the back of the outhouse and behind the chicken yard.”
His laugh was bitter. “And leave you here to holler?” He dragged her backward to the wall, where lengths of rope hung from a nail. “I’ll have to tie you up, girl. Put a gag in your mouth, I reckon.” His arm slid down from her throat and circled her waist, his muscled forearm cruel against the soft curves of her breasts. And then he paused, his breathing harsh.
“Old Beau never did pay me what I was worth. Maybe I’ll just take a sample of his woman while I’m here,” he said, his words sending fear to her depths. The knowledge of what he intended chilled her, and the thought that Beau had trusted this man saddened her. Beau would feel responsible, no matter what happened. He’d given Radley Bennett his trust, and been betrayed. How much worse it would be if the man succeeded in taking by force that which she’d given Beau so freely.
She twisted in his grip, her voice choked as she attempted to call for help. Rad jerked her around, backhanding her with a sharp blow. The familiar taste of blood was salty in her mouth, and she felt its liquid warmth against her face. A second blow forced his knuckles against the corner of her eye, and she turned her head sharply to escape the punishment he inflicted. Despair settled in her breast as she fought him, silently now, but with every ounce of her strength.
His hands were rough against her, jerking her coat open, sending the buttons flying to the ground. He tugged at her trousers, cursing as he met the resistance of a leather belt. It whipped from her waist and he held it in his hands, his eyes greedy as he lifted her by the front of her shirt, tearing it along the front placket. “I’ll use the damn belt on you if you don’t behave,” he muttered, then methodically tore open the front of her pants.
She choked, his fist thrusting against her throat and he shoved her pants to her ankles, until they pooled around her feet on the floor of the shed. Both hands gripping with cruel force, he pushed her roughly, then released her as she fell. Her head hit the bench, and she groaned, her voice muffled by the palm he slapped against her mouth. On his knees now, he shoved her legs apart, and anguish such as she’d never known brought hot tears to her eyes.
Beau. She could only call his name in silence. Her head throbbed and the light from the doorway faded, her vision blurring as Rad leaned to touch her bared breast. He must not touch her there, she thought sadly. It would stain her forever if he…
In the distance, Rascal yapped sharply, then Sophie’s voice called her name. “Maggie? Where are you, girl? Where is she, Shay?”
The darkness enveloped her, and from its depths a voice growled out a vicious oath, even as an unseen hand dragged Rad from atop her. Words she’d never thought to hear from Shay poured out without ceasing, and the thud of a falling body against the wall shook the floor beneath her.
Through the mist surrounding her, she was aware only of a warmth covering her nakedness, and the murmur of Shay’s husky voice speaking her name amid words of comfort. And then silence.
The sight of Shay dragging a man from the springhouse was surprise enough, Beau thought, without adding the sound of Sophie’s screams echoing from the yard. Rascal’s jaw was clenched on the pant leg of Shay’s captive, his growls vicious. Beau looked toward the house. Where was Maggie? Surely in the midst of all this hullabaloo she couldn’t still be inside. Not his Maggie. She’d be in the center of things, if he knew her as well as he’d thought.
And then his heart stilled in his chest. Shay was furious, his hat on the ground, his fists pummeling unmercifully at the face and body of the man who reeled from the blows. “What the hell’s going on?” Beau shouted, running from the barn door to where Shay’s victim lay on the ground, blood pouring from his nose, his groans meshing with the curses that flowed unceasingly from Shay’s mouth.
“Rad? What the hell’s he doing here?” Beau shouted, his own hands clenching into fists, itching to join the fray. “Shay!”
Shay turned, his mouth twisted, the jagged scar vivid against his crimson face. “Maggie’s in there,” he said, nodding at the springhouse. And then he bent to pick up the man he’d battered to the ground, dragging him by his coat collar, unheeding of the weak choking sounds his grip brought into being.
Maggie. Beau’s fists loosened. Maggie was in the springhouse. He staggered, stunned by the vision Shay’s words had conjured. His hand rose to clutch the door post and he leaned inside the building. Shay’s distinctive, long leather coat lay on the floor. Below its hem was a pair of crumpled trousers, and from the legs, boots protruded.
Maggie’s boots. “Dear God…” If ever he had uttered a prayer in his life, Beau spoke one now. “Maggie!” Tears streamed from his eyes and he swiped at them impatiently, falling to his knees beside the still form beneath Shay’s coat. Spread sideways across her length, it blocked her form from sight and he lifted it carefully by one sleeve. Blood seeped slowly from a lump on her temple, staining her forehead and matting her hair.
His hands trembled as he touched her cheeks. Her eyes were closed, one swollen and purpling. Her lips were parted a bit, and blood flowed from the corner of her mouth.
“Maggie?” Drawing the heavy coat down her length, he inhaled sharply. Her breasts lay naked, exposed to view, her dainty chemise torn, her shirt spread wide.
His sobs were no longer silent as he forced his eyes to travel the area of her belly, then down to where her thighs lay apart. Her trousers and drawers, tangled around her boots, forced her limbs into an awkward position and he straightened them carefully. Sophie sobbed quietly outside the door and he called to her over his shoulder.
“Get me a quilt. I want to carry her into the house.” He bent, his ear against Maggie’s breast, relief flooding him as the steady beat of her heart gave him assurance.
Beside Beau, the pup nosed at Maggie’s limp hand, whining softly. Rascal’s pink tongue touched lax fingers and as Beau watched, they twitched, then lifted to stroke the eager pup. Her eyes flickered open, and Beau was sickened by the horror reflected there, her lashes fluttering as she looked past him at the doorway.
“Where is he?” she whispered, her voice rasping. “I heard Shay hitting him, didn’t I?”
“He’s gone. Shay’s got him, sweetheart.” Drawing the handkerchief from his pocket, he wiped the corner of her mouth. “I’m going to take you to the hous
e,” he told her. His fingertips lifted her hair from the knot at her temple, where the blood still seeped. Her eye was rapidly closing and his distress dissolved into cold anger as the image of Rad’s hands causing this damage filled his mind.
Rad had been more than a fool to set foot back here. He was a dead man. If Shay hadn’t already done the job, Beau vowed to see to it himself, before the sun set on this miserable day.
“Here’s the quilt,” Sophie said from the doorway. “Do you want me to help?”
Beau shook his head. “No, just get a bowl of warm water and some towels. I’ll bring her in and get her cleaned up.” His hands slid her boots off, then stripped the trousers and drawers from her legs. Lifting Shay’s sheep-lined coat, he lay it to one side and quickly covered Maggie with the quilt, lifting her and wrapping her in its warmth in one easy motion.
She moaned, her head rolling against his arm, and he whispered words of comfort as he carried her across the yard. “Almost there, sweetheart. We’ll get you cleaned up and tucked into bed. You’ll be fine. You’ll see.”
Maggie turned her face against his shoulder, groaning as her damaged skin rubbed against the wool fabric. “I can do it,” she said. “Just fill the tub for me.”
“No, not now,” he told her. “Maybe later on.” He stepped onto the porch and Sophie held the door wide. Through the kitchen and up the stairs, he carried his precious bundle, set on ridding her of her torn shirt and the delicate chemise. With care, he placed her on the bed and she shivered beneath the warmth of the quilt. Her teeth chattered and she closed her eyes tightly.
“I’m so cold, Beau. I’ve never been so cold,” she whimpered, turning to her side and drawing up her knees.
“Here’s the basin,” Sophie said from the doorway. “Should I get her out of those things?”
“I’ll do it,” Beau told her. “Close the door.” He heard the latch click as he took off his coat, tossing it to the floor. Reaching for the pillows, he stacked them against the metal headboard and then bent to lift Maggie into his arms again. Even with the heavy quilt, she shivered almost uncontrollably, and he settled himself against the pillows, tucking her feet beneath the covers and cradling her on his lap. He rocked with her, pulling the quilt around the back of her head, until only her face was exposed. She was pale, her features pinched, and swelling marred the fine lines of her cheek and forehead.
Weeks ago, she’d come to him in almost this same condition, he thought, remembering his first sight of the defiant young woman who’d sought shelter in his hayloft. He’d not been able that time to deliver justice to her attacker. Today would be different, he vowed.
Reaching to the table beside the bed, he squeezed the washrag with one hand, then lifted the warm cloth to her face, his touch gentle as he cleaned the blood from her mouth. He rinsed it and squeezed it again, this time placing it on her forehead, allowing the blood to soak up into the cloth. Wiping carefully, he exposed the cut, a small one, right at the hairline. Head wounds always bled fiercely, he reminded himself, noting that the cut was already beginning to clot.
“Thank you,” Maggie whispered. Her trembling had become less noticeable, and she curled against him, her arms warming against his chest. “Why would he come back?” she asked. “He might have known someone would see him.”
“Joe went through his things in the bunkhouse yesterday,” Beau told her. “He had a couple of guns and over two hundred dollars. He hid the money in the mattress. My guess is he must’ve thought it was worth the risk.”
“Where’s your horse? The one he took.”
Beau shrugged. “I don’t know. Probably in the woods beyond the orchard. Shay will find it.”
“I’m sorry, Beau. I know I upset you, letting him get the best of me thataway. He caught me by surprise and I couldn’t get my hands on anything to smack him with.”
He made a sound of disbelief. How like Maggie to apologize for that which she had no control over. “You’re a small woman,” he told her. “You couldn’t be expected to protect yourself against a big man like Rad.” He turned her, sliding her to the bed and his hands were gentle as he unwrapped her from the quilt.
“I can do this,” she told him again. Her eyes pled with him, but he ignored her protest.
“If you’re worrying because you haven’t got anything on, sweetheart, you must be forgetting that I saw you this way last night.” His words were teasing, and he forced a smile.
“That was before Rad touched me,” she said, turning her head away. “Please, Beau.” Gripping the quilt tightly, she smothered a sob, and he relented.
“All right. I’ll go down and get the tub ready for you. It’ll take a while to heat the water. Will you be all right?”
She nodded. “Just leave the basin here please.”
“The water’s not clean,” he told her. “I’ll bring up fresh.”
“Fill the tub.” Her head turned stubbornly away, she waited, and he allowed her defiance.
Rising from the bed, he picked up his coat and left the room, closing the door behind himself. From the foot of the stairs, Sophie watched his slow progress down the steps. “Is she all right? Did you get her cleaned up?”
“A little,” he said tersely. “She wants to take a bath.”
“The wash boiler’s on the stove. I filled it, and there’s a full reservoir. It won’t take long. I stoked up the fire real good.” She stepped back as he walked past her into the kitchen. “Beau?”
Stalking to the window, he looked out onto the yard. “Yeah?”
“What will happen to Radley?”
Nothing stirred beyond the window. Even the pup had taken refuge on the porch, and lay with her head resting on her paws. “You don’t need to know, Sophie,” Beau said after a moment.
“Will you get the sheriff?”
He shook his head and heard her swift intake of breath. “Beau, don’t get in trouble over the man.”
One thought spun through his mind and he spoke it aloud. “He hurt Maggie.”
“She wouldn’t want you to…” As if she could not speak the unthinkable, Sophie paused, and then she was there at his elbow. “You don’t want his blood on your hands.”
“He has Maggie’s blood on his.” His jaw tightened, and he cursed. “Damn it, Sophie. Do you think I’ll ever forget seeing her there like that?” He spun to the door, shoving his sleeves into his coat. “Where the hell’s my hat?” he growled.
“In the shed, I think,” Sophie told him.
The door slammed behind him as he leaped from the porch. “Joe!” he shouted, and then called again. “Joe? Pony?” His stride was long as he went to the shed. Shay’s long coat lay on the floor, Beau’s hat beside it. Crushing the brim, he jerked the hat onto his head and slung Shay’s coat over his shoulder.
From the barn door Pony and Joe watched his approach and he looked beyond them into the shadowed interior. “Where’d Shay take him?”
“Last I saw, Shay was draggin’ Rad by the back of his coat, out past the orchard, into the woods.”
“Get my horse saddled,” he told Pony, then turned to Joe. “I want you to bundle up all Rad’s belongings. Wrap everything in his slicker and bring it out of the bunkhouse.”
“What about the money, and his guns?” Joe asked.
“Leave them out. He won’t need them.”
“There’s not much else, just a couple of pants and shirts and his old boots.” Joe shrugged and turned away. “Sure fooled us all, didn’t he?”
And therein, Beau decided, lay the reason for his anger. That he had been made a fool of by a man he’d trusted. He’d look harder at the next cowboy that rode up, that was a sure bet. He’d almost lost Maggie, and all because he’d been blind to Rad’s dark side.
Pony led the big stallion from the barn, and without a word Beau was in the saddle. Shay’s coat over his lap, he turned the stud with a movement of his reins and touched his heels to the animal’s sides. With a toss of his head, the horse broke into a quick trot, and Beau t
urned him into the orchard, making his way between the rows of fruit trees to the heavily wooded area beyond.
There was no sign of Shay as he entered the woods, and he leaned over his horse’s shoulder to peer at the ground. The trail was easy to follow, footsteps obscured in places by the burden Shay had dragged behind him. Beneath the trees, the snow was not as deep and Beau made slower progress. Shay had had a good fifteen-minute start on him. He couldn’t have gone far on foot, not dragging Rad’s considerable weight through the brush.
“Beau.” So quietly he might not have heard it had not his ears been attuned to every sound, Shay’s voice came from a cluster of pine trees on Beau’s right. He turned in the saddle and faced the man he sought.
“You need your coat,” he said, handing it down. Shay walked closer and took the heavy garment, sliding his arms into the sleeves and adjusting the collar.
“Where is he?” Beau asked.
“You don’t need to know,” Shay told him. “Fact is, you’re better off if you don’t know anything about it.”
“What’re you talkin’ about?” Beau snapped, anger flooding his mind as he glared at Shay. “He’s not leaving my ranch standing up, Shay. He’s a dead man.”
Shay shoved his hands into his coat pockets and nodded. “You got that right, boss.” A glimmer of satisfaction stirred in his eyes as he spoke. “He won’t lay his hands on another woman, I promise you that.”
“He’s dead?” Shay’s words shot holes in Beau’s hopes for at least one good solid punch before he shot the man, and he felt frustration take hold.
“You don’t know where he is or where he’s goin’, boss. That’s the way it has to be. Otherwise you’ll be answerin’ a whole heap of questions when you go visit the sheriff. This way, you’re in the clear. You don’t know what happened to the man.”
“And you do.” Beau’s jaw clamped tightly as he read between the lines. Shay would not budge. He knew the man well enough to realize that. “Now what, Shay?”
“I’m leavin’. I’ll get my things and be gone by nightfall.”
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