“Now I’m not going to stand for this.” Doc leaned forward and pointed a stubby finger at Silas. “I asked you to come along because there was no one else I could ask, but I’m not going to tolerate your badgering this young woman.”
“Know what I heard?” Silas said to no one in particular. “I heard that Luke Tate is riding with the ‘Buffaloes’.”
“And what, pray tell, is a ‘Buffalo’?” Doc asked.
“Oh, some say they’re Confederates—and some say they’re really Union men. Nobody knows for sure. I guess they fight on whichever side is armed the heaviest.”
Kitty gave an unladylike snort. “And you call my father a traitor? At least people know which side he’s on.”
“I think the Buffaloes are smart,” Silas went on, almost reverently. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a plug of tobacco and bit off a chew, his eyes never leaving Kitty’s face. “They don’t have to worry about getting their heads blown off if they don’t go with a winner, now do they?”
Doc shook his head. “I don’t understand you, Silas. I thought you were really concerned about the fighting on the coast. You said you wanted to come along and do your part. Now you’re taking up for men who are obviously outlaws with no principles at all.”
“And condemning my father,” Kitty reminded him.
“Oh, I reckon I had my reasons for coming along.” He was smiling again. He leaned over to spit out the back of the wagon before saying, “Luke’s a distant cousin of mine. I don’t like the way he got run off the Collins plantation because of you.” He all but snarled at Kitty as his eyes narrowed maliciously.
Doc started to say something, but just then Paul Gray turned to yell, “Hey, I don’t know where the hell you think we’re going, Doc, but I’m lost. I can’t see the road, and we just ain’t gettin’ nowhere.”
“It was your idea to turn at that fork back there.” Doc turned to Silas accusingly. “Suppose you tell us where we are since you claim to know this part of the country. We should have reached the camp an hour ago.”
“And you would have,” he laughed, “if you’d been goin’ in the right direction, but you weren’t.”
“Just what the hell…”
Doc gasped into silence as Silas’s smile disappeared as he brought out a pistol that had been concealed inside his jacket, and pointed it at them.
“Now you just sit quiet. Old Luke and his men should be along any minute now. Everything’s worked out just fine so far, even the weather. He got that telegram to you, and I played the part of innocent country boy wanting to help the wounded soldiers and got invited along. And now Luke’s got the supplies he needs for some of his men, and I’ve got a special surprise for him.” He looked at Kitty and grinned meaningfully.
Realization of the hoax washed over Kitty, and anger overcame any fear she might have felt. For here they were, being held at gunpoint by a traitor, while somewhere nearby wounded Confederate soldiers needed their attention. Even if the telegram had been a trick, the battle raging on the nearby outer banks was a reality.
“You filthy scum!” She spat out the words furiously. “Some of our soldiers may die for lack of the supplies and attention we can give them, and you dared to condemn my father? Just how low do you crawl, Silas?”
“As low as I have to, so long as I don’t love slaves like your pappy!” His eyes had narrowed. Gone was the pretense of friend and neighbor. “I rode with them Vigilantes, and I helped beat your daddy and kill them runaway slaves, and…”
That’s all he had time to say when Kitty exploded. Here, before her was a man admitting that he had helped to nearly murder her father and had a hand in the killing of three people—she could control herself no longer. She lunged for him, oblivious to the gun, the shouts now sounding outside the wagon—nothing else mattered except the sudden unleashing of the animal called revenge that she had carried in her body ever since that dreadful, unforgettable night.
Unaware that the young girl possessed such fury, Silas was caught off guard. Doc leaped at the same moment, and the gun slipped from his hand as the two fell on top of him, both pummeling and hitting at the same time.
“What the hell…?” Paul turned to see the three of them thrashing against the sides of the wagon, knocking into the cartons of supplies.
The men who had ridden out of the swampland had encircled the wagon, and, hearing the commotion from within, several of them leaped from their horses to scurry inside. Kitty felt herself being dragged away, strong fingers twisting into her hair to yank her painfully back.
Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Doc trying to scramble away, his arm reaching out, fingers closing around the gun that Silas had dropped.
Something exploded. He screamed and crumpled as Kitty fought for consciousness. Swaying against the one who held her, she struggled to get to Doc, her eyes bulging with terror at the sight of the blood seeping from beneath his body, his back torn open and gaping by the ball fired at such close range.
The man holding the smoking gun laughed…an ugly, taunting sound.
Kitty raised her eyes from Doc’s body…to meet the triumphant gaze of Luke Tate.
Chapter Thirteen
Luke had slung her up on the rump of his horse as casually as though she were just another saddlebag, carrying her to his camp deep in the swamp where there was a cave hidden in a steep dirt bank. She had begged to be allowed to dig a grave for the man she had loved almost as much as her own father, but her pleas had been answered by taunting laughter. She had hovered beside the body while they loaded the supplies onto their horses, then had to be dragged away.
She had been thrown to the ground beside a campfire, and the men shot anxious glances her way as they moved about to bring the supplies inside the cave. Kitty was terrified, but she told herself she could not let them know it. She had to be brave. Animals like these could never be allowed to think they had the upper hand. Over and over she told her screaming brain to stop her body from trembling, make her eyes glare with anger—not fear.
Suddenly, Luke Tate was squatting down in front of her, hands rubbing together in satisfaction between his hunched knees. “Well, well, Kitty, we meet again. I’ve waited for this time.”
“Just as you waited for the time when you could beat my father and have plenty of help from your hooded friends?” She stared at him, unwaveringly defiant, proud of her control.
“Oh, I didn’t get in on that.” He grinned, showing his yellowed, chipped teeth in the glow from the firelight. “I got run off by that fancy-pants boyfriend of yours, remember? I’ve been waitin’ for the chance to give him his, too, and it’ll come. Wait long enough for something, and it comes to you, I always say.”
His hand snaked out to clamp down on her left breast, squeezing painfully, and he laughed as she cried out and struggled to escape his grasp. “Stop struggling, and I’ll stop squeezing…” he taunted her.
She bit her lip and forced herself to be still, eyes glinting with hate and loathing.
“Now then…” He began to knead the flesh gently. “I’ve been waiting on you for quite a spell. It worked out just fine, too. I figured out a way to get the supplies and get you, too.”
“And you killed Doc,” she cried painfully, “and he was a good man—a needed man! You’ll pay for it, Luke Tate—the same way you’ll pay for what you had them do to my father.”
Suddenly his face twisted evilly, and he reached to rip open his shirt, pulling the cloth down from one shoulder to expose the gouged pock-hole where the ball she had fired had ripped into the flesh. “And what about you paying for what you did to me, you little slut?” He sprang forward to twist the fingers of one hand into her hair, yanking her head back painfully as his other hand ripped her clothes to her waist.
He gasped as the perfectly formed mounds of flesh tumbled forward, and he quickly took one pink nipple between grimy nails to pinch, watching it turn to fiery red as it tightened against her will. Laughing, he leaned forward to duck hi
s head and fasten his lips around it, and she jerked her head quickly to sink her teeth into his ear, biting down with all her strength.
“Goddamn you, bitch!” He yanked his head up, swinging his hand at the same time to strike her across her face, knocking her back onto the ground. He was up on his knees, blood trickling from his ear. Snatching at his trousers, he bellowed, “I’m going to teach you a lesson you won’t forget, you little spitfire. I’m going to make you beg for mercy.”
Her head still reeling from the blow, the sight of his bulging manhood, red and swollen, leaping from his trousers, gave her the strength she needed to bring one knee up and crashing into his testicles. With a howl of pain, he grabbed himself and rolled sideways, and Kitty was leaping to her feet, backing away from the men who were converging on her with angry faces.
“Get the bitch…” Luke was moaning. “Get her and tie her down.”
She had nowhere to go but backward, and suddenly she felt the cold dirt wall of the cave pressing into her shoulders. Silas Canby was coming closer, arid for the first time she recognized Orville Shaw. And they were laughing, taunting, hands snatching out to pinch at her breasts, her crotch…
“No, no…” She began to swing at them, clawing, kicking. Where was a weapon? A club? Anything to defend herself. But there was nothing she could reach, and she was no match for the half dozen men who quickly subdued her and pushed her to the floor, ripping the rest of her clothing from her body until she was completely naked.
Someone was hammering stakes into the ground. She felt her legs being spread apart…her arms pulled above her head and tied. Spread-eagled and naked—she was at their mercy.
“Hurry up, Luke…” someone said in a thick voice, heavy with desire. “Seein’ her like that… God, what a body… I gotta have some, too.”
“Did you ever see such big tits?” someone else chortled.
“Get back…” Luke was coming toward her. Through half-closed eyes, Kitty could see him approaching. He knelt between her spread knees, both hands clamping down on her breasts to twist viciously, painfully. “Nobody is gettin’ her but me, understand? She’s mine…all mine and when I get through with her, there ain’t gonna be enough left to spread around.”
She felt a sharp, stabbing pain, and she screamed…screamed until her throat felt as though it were turning inside out. Jerking her head from side to side, the dirt floor clawed at her cheeks as she cried over and over as Luke plunged into her again and again. Her insides were burning, tearing, as he relentlessly pounded against her, grunting and moaning like a wild animal. She was dimly aware of something sticky running down her legs, realizing it was her own blood.
Finally, mercifully, he slumped against her as his body exploded within her. She felt herself drifting away into blackness, but he was shaking her, slapping her, ordering someone to throw cold water in her face. “Damn you, don’t you pass out on me,” he screamed. “I want you awake… I want you to feel every goddamned thing I do to you. I want you to hurt like I did when you put that ball in my shoulder… I want you to hurt like I did when your boyfriend wrapped that bullwhip around my neck… I want you to grovel and scream and beg…”
He was entering her again, plunging, pushing, with knifelike jabs and jerks that shook her whole body. She could feel the flesh being torn against the ground as her back and hips were rocked to and fro. She could feel the skin splitting around her breasts and nipples as he bit and chewed against the tender flesh. On and on he went, and she prayed. to sink into the blackness that sought to consume her…and each time she drifted away someone would sling a bucket of water into her face, bringing her back to face the stark, stabbing reality of the hell that Luke Tate was inflicting upon her body.
And finally, mercifully, she felt herself slipping once again…felt the sudden splash of water on her face…but even that could not bring her back as the inky black void opened up to claim her. She remembered thinking, This is what it’s like to die.
Someone was holding a bitter liquid to her lips and commanding that she drink it or choke on it. Opening her eyes, she saw Luke bending over her. Beyond him, the sky was visible through the thick shroud of trees. The rain had ended. Where was she? Why was Luke Tate here? And where was Doc? They had to keep moving…get the supplies to the wounded…
Slowly, it came back to her, and she opened her mouth to scream with terror, and Luke tossed the burning whiskey inside her parted lips. Gagging, she spit it out, and he swore and wrapped strong fingers around her throat, snarling, “Drink it, damnit, or I’ll drown you. You ain’t gonna die on me, you hear?”
Blinking, she let the liquid trickle down her throat. It burned, but once it hit her stomach, it felt good, in spite of the stinging sensation. How long had it been since she had eaten? She couldn’t remember.
Her body ached all over. Glancing down, she saw that someone had wrapped a blanket around her nakedness. Luke pulled her up to a sitting position and propped her against the wall of the cave. He yelled at someone to bring some food, and when it arrived, Kitty’s stomach lurched at the sight and smell of the greasy-looking turtle stew.
“Well, I’m sorry you don’t like our cooking,” Luke laughed, forcing her to swallow the glob of stew he held in the scoop of his fingers, “but we ain’t had time to unpack your supplies and see what you brought us. Soon as you feel better, you can do the cooking for us.”
The greasy concoction stuck in her swollen throat, and she gagged. Luke cursed, forcing more into her mouth. “Now eat, damn you! You’re staying with us, and I don’t want you all poor and sickly. We’re going to be riding out of here in a few days, and you better be in good shape.”
“Where…where are we going?” she asked, her head throbbing dizzily.
“Can’t see where it’s any of your business, but I guess it won’t hurt for you to know that we’re going to ride around and kill Yankees or Rebels, whichever gets in our way first. We’re going to steal gold, food, anything we want, and when this war is over, we’ll be the rich ones—not the poor dead heroes or slobbering leftovers with stumps where legs and arms used to be. Not us…” He threw back his head and laughed, and Kitty stared at him contemptuously, realizing that she never thought she was capable of hating a human being as much as she hated Luke Tate. If she had her fingers around a knife or the trigger of a gun, she could easily kill him with no guilt or remorse whatsoever—and she silently cursed herself for not doing so when she had the chance.
He seemed to sense what she was thinking, and his face twisted into an ugly grimace. He threw the pan of foul-smelling stew to the floor of the cave, and it hit and splattered, as he reached to yank the blanket from her body, exposing her nakedness. “I think it’s time to show you again who’s boss.”
“You want me to have the boys tie you up and watch again like they did last night, or you want to relax and enjoy the fun?”
Memories flooded back—Doc lying dead in a pool of blood—Luke raping her again and again. Give in to this blood-crazed, lust-filled creature? Never. She would sooner die. Her nails ached to rake the flesh from his face, gouge his eyeballs from their sockets. From deep within, she felt the trembling begin, but she sought to control the urge to fight, as another picture conjured painfully within her brain. Her father, sitting on the porch in his rocking chair, staring out into space, spirit broken, seemingly—but there all the same, smoldering, subconsciously waiting for the right time to come alive again. She saw the message in that flash of memory—the quick lesson that must be rapidly learned. Submission. If she answered the urgent cry smoldering within and fought back now, Luke would beat her, tie her, and rape her anyway. But if she submitted…if she pretended that he had broken her spirit…then she could wait for the right time and place and fight back and perhaps win.
She did not move nor speak. Slowly, Luke grinned, fingers moving forward to pinch her nipples. She stiffened but did not cry out. He pushed her backward onto the ground, stretching out beside her. Closing her eyes, she felt him fumbli
ng with his clothing once again. Gritting her teeth, she felt his lips move down her neck, to her breasts, then upward to fasten on her lips. She yielded but did not respond.
“I’ll make you want me,” he whispered as she fought the impulse to gag against his foul-smelling breath. “Sooner or later, you’ll beg, but right now, you can pretend you don’t like it.”
Rough fingernails dug at the flesh between her legs as he forced them apart, plunging upward. Against her will, Nature’s moisture spread downward. Chuckling to himself, Luke slid on top of her, entering her, but mercifully this time he did not rip into her as brutally as before.
She tasted blood as her teeth bit into her lower lip as she fought to hold back the screams that gurgled in her throat. It can’t be happening, she thought wildly. None of this is real. It’s a nightmare—a cruel, terrible nightmare.
She couldn’t be here in the arms of this grunting animal, and Doc wasn’t really dead back there on the side of a road waiting for wild animals to rip his body to shreds, and Poppa wasn’t gone to God only knew where…and Nathan wasn’t off fighting in the war, maybe dead, too. No, it couldn’t be happening. It could not be real.
As bile rose in her throat, she shuddered, and Luke took the movement for her pleasure in spite of the fact that she was pretending not to respond. He moved faster, pounding into her.
And then, mercifully, she felt him slump against her—and for the moment, he was spent.
She turned her head to the cave wall and silently wept. It was real. It was not a tortured nightmare. She was here, naked beneath the sweating, stinking body of Luke Tate. Maybe it had always been this way. Perhaps none of the memories she held dear to her heart were real. There was no mossy bank beside a cool and rushing stream, where a bowing, graceful weeping tree held an embracing couple in the secret shroud of its leafy arms.
Love and War: The Coltrane Saga, Book 1 Page 14