“So what are they doing?”
“Shut up.”
A yell came from the other side of the trees. Then a gunshot. More yelling. The horses whinnied and stomped their hooves. Taken by surprise, Jake almost lost hold of the roan.
“Shit.” He looked at Bart. “Should we go help them?”
He snorted. “They don’t need us,” he said, obviously unconcerned, and put a long thin cigarette between his lips.
An eerie silence descended, and then a second gunshot split the air. A few moments later, a horse galloped out from the trees toward Jake and Bart, before it circled into the darkness.
Jake peered toward the cottonwoods, his mind racing. A gunshot, a horse with no saddle, no rider. Sweat coated the back of his neck. He’d bet anything there’d been another hanging. He saw the Rangers start to emerge from the shadows, but they didn’t seem to be in a hurry.
Bart puffed on his cigarette, his face a hard mask of barely controlled repugnance, the tension radiating from his body enough to power a small cabin. Whatever had just gone down, Jake was now complicit. Had that been the plan? Was Wade that smart?
The men approached, their expressions unreadable. “Bad news,” Wade announced as he calmly took the reins of his horse. “Looks like the vigilantes struck again.”
Jake tamped down his anger and disgust, and glanced at Bart, hoping like hell he’d found the group’s weak link.
The next evening, Jake stayed in Rebecca’s room and out of the saloon. He hadn’t outright complained about his ribs, but he’d subtly allowed Wade to think he was hurting, hoping Wade would prefer that Jake lie low and heal quickly. He needed time to think about how he should proceed, and he needed to gauge how Rebecca was handling what he’d told her about him being from the future. He needed to be with her.
“Tonight I will start sewing your new shirt,” she said, folding the towel strips that he’d washed, and she’d dried by hanging them by the kitchen fire.
He smiled, thinking about her startled reaction when he’d insisted on doing the washing. She was even more shocked to learn that he always did his own laundry.
“No sewing tonight,” he said sternly, and she abruptly turned to look at him. He waggled his eyebrows up and down. “I have other plans for you.”
She got his message, tried not to smile, and shook her head in mock disapproval. “Work before pleasure.”
“Says who?” He slid in behind her and pulled her back against his chest. Her hair tickled his nose. With one arm circled around her middle, he used his other hand to comb through her hair. “Come lie down with me.”
She spun around in his arms, her eyes troubled. “Will the captain call for you tonight?”
“I don’t think so.” He hadn’t relayed last night’s activities. The less she knew the better. But she was curious and worse, disappointed that he’d “thrown in” with the Rangers. To explain too much could endanger them both.
“If they do, you should refuse to go. You’re not well.” Her thumb brushed the corner of his mouth. “Being outside in the cold wind last night has made your blister red again. I’ll have to treat it.” She hesitated, and he’d bet her cheeks were suddenly pinker than his healed blister. She was fishing again, like she had once before, trying to figure out where he’d gone.
He struggled to keep his game face on. By midmorning, everyone in town knew the undertaker had been sent to collect a body at a nearby ranch. Another rustler had been hanged by the vigilantes, they were told. Except Jake could tell by the downcast eyes and furtively exchanged looks that no one believed the story. Funny how the rustlers seemed to be caught regularly, someone had murmured, but there was never any sign of the cattle. Good observation.
Their gazes met and held for several long moments, and then she reached for the pouch where she kept the salve.
“I’m okay.” He stilled her hand. “You must’ve learned to use cactus sap from your husband’s people.”
Rebecca smiled fondly. “Bird Song taught me many remedies that Doc Davis calls hogwash, but they often work. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.” Sadness replaced the smile. “She’s sick. None of her medicine has eased her pain. I’ve been reading Doc Davis’s book to see if she might have a white man’s disease.”
He remembered her reading in those murky hours by his bedside. If the woman did have a white man’s disease, he knew what that meant. He liked that Rebecca was so caring, but glad that she wouldn’t witness the woman’s deterioration. “Do you miss your husband’s people?”
The smile was back, in her eyes this time. “Sometimes. Bird Song was like a mother to me. But to most of the tribe I was still an outsider. You are close to your family?”
Jake shrugged, not keen on going in that direction. “My father died a few years ago. I have a sister who I rarely see.”
“And your mother?”
Jake slid his hands lower and squeezed her backside, chuckling when she squealed. “I’m going to strip off your dress and then make love to you the rest of the night.”
She drew back, regarding him with wide shocked eyes.
“You have a problem with that?” he asked, already tackling the row of dreaded buttons.
She started to laugh and stifled herself.
A thought occurred to him, and he shook his head at his own stupidity. He unfastened the cuffs. With them loose, the dress was big enough on her that he easily pulled it off, buttons intact. A swift yank of the drawstring that held up her bloomers, and in seconds, she stood before him naked, her nipples already beaded.
Another minute and his clothes joined hers in a heap on the floor.
They’d made love after he returned in the early hours, and again when they’d awoken midmorning. Already she’d lost some of her shyness, and didn’t flinch when he turned her around and kissed the three long thin scars across her back. He reached around to cup her breasts as he ran his tongue between her shoulder blades and up to her nape.
She shivered and laughed. “That tickles.”
“What about this?” Abandoning her right breast, he drew his hand down her belly, stopping just short of the V of curls.
She squirmed, wiggling her fanny against his aroused cock.
“I’m going to give you an hour to stop that.”
Grinning, Rebecca turned in his arms, lifting her face for his kiss. “I like it when you tease me.”
“What makes you think I’m teasing?” He forced her backward until her legs hit the bed. He laid her down, and stretched out beside her, arranging her hair so that her breasts were exposed.
He leisurely rolled his tongue over the rosy crown, pleased that she arched her back and let her thighs fall slightly apart, humbled by how much she trusted him. Even after being whipped and held captive by Comanches, treated like garbage by the Rangers, Rebecca had found it in her heart to trust him with her life, with her savaged body.
His chest nearly burst with the sudden surge of emotion welling up inside him. Sweet, brave, fragile Rebecca trusted him. Had he ever been given such a precious gift? He doubted he was worthy. God, he couldn’t let her down. No matter what, he had to keep her safe, get her out of Diablo Flats. It wouldn’t be easy, balancing his duty to protect the rest of the innocent people suffering from the Rangers’ tyranny, and concentrating on Rebecca.
Implausibly, Jake’s thoughts skipped to his father. Had it been this way for him? Having to make the hard decision between taking care of the people he’d sworn to protect and the ones he loved. Jake’s heart hammered his chest. Love? Did he love Rebecca? Was it possible to feel that deeply in such a short time? What he felt right now was so unfamiliar he honestly didn’t know.
She’d been his caregiver, always there when he’d opened his eyes from that morphine haze. She’d bathed his forehead with cool compresses, brought him water for his parched throat, and nursed him back from the edge of death. Was he confusing gratitude with love?
She sighed impatiently, and he smiled, transferring his attention to her other breast, nipping
at her ripened nipple. He splayed his hand across her belly, felt her spasm beneath his palm, before he slid his hand lower to the juncture of her thighs. He waited, willing her to part her legs further for him, and welcome his probing fingers.
Rebecca slowly opened for him, and then lifted her upper body off the mattress and kissed his chin. An aching tenderness welled inside him. From the beginning, she’d had every reason to cover herself, to thwart his advances, but she’d freely surrendered. Did she too feel this strange breathtaking warmth that had nothing to do with sex?
He slid his hand between her thighs, but immediately knew that wasn’t going to be enough. He wanted to touch her, and he wanted to pleasure her. But he also desperately needed to be inside of her.
With a deftness that startled her, he rolled over, wedging his leg between both of hers. He drew the back of his crooked finger down her flushed cheek, and gazing into her dazed greenish-blue eyes, he positioned himself over her. Moving his hand to his cock, he teased her opening, watching her eyes to make sure she was ready. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. “Too much pain. Too much sorrow. Let me make you feel good.”
She inhaled sharply at his words and her eyes grew heavy with tears. She touched his shoulder, ran her hand gently down his flank, her worry clear.
“You just relax. I’m not gonna do anything stupid. I just can’t—” He eased inside of her, the tight warmth stilling everything in him but pleasure and need. He wanted to thrust hard and fast, bury himself until he could forget about everything but how damn good she felt. Instead, he braced himself with a hand on either side of her head and he leaned down to capture her mouth.
She parted her lips with a tiny sob and she clutched at his back. When she pressed into him, he nearly lost his mind. He met her thrust with his own, filling her, feeling the grip of her silky heat and he moaned into her mouth, telling her with his cock, with his kiss, that if this were a dream, some crazed hallucination, he never wanted to wake up. And if she was as real as the pulse in his neck, as the feel of her heel sliding up his leg, that he would do whatever it took to keep her safe and by his side.
16
THE NEXT NIGHT, while Jake was sitting in the saloon with the captain and some of the other Rangers, Rebecca tidied up the room and washed her hair. She smiled at the pair of gray woolen socks balled up and tucked under the lip of the washbasin. She knew he tried to be neat, but his things seemed to end up in the most unexpected places. He’d admitted that in his life in the future, his living quarters, what he called an apartment, wasn’t always as orderly as it should be.
As she brushed out her hair, she thought about the things like cars, microwaves, telephones and indoor showers that he’d described. Most of them frightened her. Not because she’d reckoned he was crazy and his tales a creation of his fertile mind, but because he spoke of his “modern conveniences” with such fervor that she knew he missed his life. She knew the time would come that he would return.
Oh, how she would miss him. The notion alone brought a lump to her throat and the threat of tears to her eyes. How glad it made her heart to set eyes on him, even from across a room. There was so much good in him. It showed in so many ways. He wasn’t just kind to her, but he treated Kitty and the other women politely and with the respect he would a society woman. He never referred to them as whores but as ladies. Even when the other men gave him a hard time about it.
And never once when he spoke of the Comanche had he used words like filthy Indians, or savages or heathens like the Rangers and most of the other white men. To Jake, they were people, no different from the men and women who lived in town or the nearby ranches.
The way he treated her touched her heart the most. Like she was the most precious woman on earth. His protectiveness was plain enough that the Rangers stayed clear of her, even the captain hadn’t said a word about using her to service the soon-to-arrive railroad men, and she hadn’t missed the traces of envy in Ruby and Trixie’s eyes. She loved that he touched her often and not simply because he wanted to bed her. He seemed to like playing with her hair and giving her unexpected kisses on the side of her neck, and on the palm of her hand for no reason.
The only thing that troubled her was the time he spent with the Rangers. When he rode with them in the middle of the night, and she lay in bed awake with too much time to think, she questioned whether she might be wrong about him. She hated harboring the smallest doubt, but there was no denying the truth. He knew these men were responsible for horrible acts of cruelty, and had witnessed their ghastly treatment of her. Yet he continued to ride with them, drink with them, eat with them.
Kitty told her not to worry. Jake was only doing what he had to do. Her friend had even suspected that Jake had exchanged his allegiance to Wade for Rebecca’s safety. But if that were true, he could achieve the same goal by taking her away from Diablo Flats. The anxiety wouldn’t let her be. For too long she had depended on someone else for her security, first her husband and Bird Song, and then Kitty, and now Jake. It was time she relied upon herself. She was much stronger than the girl who’d been captured five years ago, and she had an obligation. To help Bird Song. If only she had a horse, Rebecca was certain she could find the tribe.
The brisk knock at her door was followed by Kitty’s voice. “Rebecca? We need you downstairs.”
Her stomach clenched, just as it always did when she had to go to the saloon, but at least Jake would be there. She set down her brush and opened the door. Kitty was already going down the stairs. Rebecca saw why she was in such a hurry. The place was crowded, much more than usual. Nearly every table was taken and there wasn’t an empty seat at the bar.
She recalled only one other busy night like this and she’d been forced to serve drinks. At least she wouldn’t have to take customers upstairs like the other girls. The thought made her shudder as she hurried to find Kitty loading a tray at the end of the bar.
“There was another hanging last night,” Kitty murmured under her breath. “I think the men are feeling safer sticking around town.”
“Where’s Jake?” Rebecca glanced around the room at some of the faces she was starting to recognize.
“He left with Bart and Vernon about half an hour ago.”
Kitty added two shots of whiskey to her order and then picked up the tray. “Get rid of the long face. Wade sent him, and Jake didn’t have time to run up and tell you. I told him I would.”
She nodded and took Kitty’s place at the bar, loading a tray with foaming mugs of beer that the mean-faced bartender slid toward her. Working quickly, she managed to skim the room, locating where each Ranger was sitting. She spotted the captain but not Corbin, which made her nervous. Ruby was hanging over one of the card players. No sign of Lola or Trixie. Maybe he was upstairs with one of them.
“We’re taking that to the kitchen,” Kitty said, indicating the newly filled tray. “Lloyd, I need a bottle for Wade,” she told the bartender as she hurriedly scooped up shot glasses and then led the way toward the back. “It’s too crowded out here. Wade wants to talk to the boys in private.”
Rebecca nodded, breathing deeply to keep herself calm. She needed to concentrate on the heavy tray that the bartender had forced her to overload. He’d been nasty to her ever since Jake had made him apologize to her and Kitty. She didn’t care though. She’d carried buffalo hides uphill in the pouring rain heavy enough to make a grown white man weep. The urge to tell Lloyd just that made her smile.
When they entered the kitchen, four of the Rangers had already pulled up chairs close to the cook fire. The captain came in behind them, along with three other men Rebecca hadn’t seen before. Kitty offered shot glasses, while Rebecca passed out the beer.
“Where’s Corbin?” one of the Rangers asked.
Captain Wade seemed irritated. “We’re starting without him.”
The men exchanged knowing looks as they took off their hats and positioned their chairs. Corbin was likely too drunk again. Jake had confided to Rebecca that
some of the Rangers were getting nervous because they thought Corbin was out of control. The information had made her worry more for Jake.
“What’s she doing here?” the captain asked Kitty.
“I needed help carrying the trays.”
“Send her back out to the saloon.” He narrowed his eyes on Rebecca, and addressed her directly. “Don’t go running back to your room like a goddamn scared rabbit. There are plenty of tables that need waiting on.”
Normally his tone would have frightened her. This time she fought to hide her contempt for the man.
“Go,” Kitty ordered in a low warning voice, and Rebecca realized that she’d stared too long at the captain.
She set down the last beer and clutching the tray to her breast, left the kitchen. She’d gotten halfway down the short hall and stopped, curious suddenly about what the Rangers were discussing. Quietly she slipped back, and listened outside the door.
KITTY POURED WHISKEY into the shot glasses, pretending disinterest in the conversation. Part of her wanted to run from the kitchen, leave them to their evil plans. She smelled trouble brewing, felt it the minute she saw the tall bulky man they called Sebastian walk into the saloon earlier. He’d come to town before, nearly two years ago. He showed no sign of recognizing her, but she hadn’t forgotten him. The bastard had paid for her the entire night. He’d been crude and rough, and she’d been tempted to grab his gun out of the holster he’d hung on the bedpost and blow him to kingdom come. That is, until she saw the notches on his pistol handle.
What had hurt the most was that the gunslinger appeared to have been a friend of Wade’s. She’d tried to convince herself that Wade hadn’t known about the man’s quirks, and for a time she believed it. But Wade was different now, she wasn’t sure she knew him anymore. One thing she did know for certain, she’d either put a bullet in Sebastian’s head or leave Diablo Flats tonight before she’d let him touch her again.
“What are they saying in Austin?” Wade asked Sebastian.
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