by Nan Ryan
The gun discharged six loud shots in rapid succession before he lowered it. It was smoking and warm when he thrust it into the waistband of Suzette’s pink wool skirt, where it rested against her flat midriff, the barrel against her quivering stomach, the pearl handle touching her breasts.
She studied his immobile face. What sort of game was this cold, cunning man playing with her? Hate mixed with her fear; the heartless half-breed was toying with her. He wanted her to try to pluck a bullet from his gunbelt. He was amusing himself, waiting for her to foolishly extract a bullet and struggle to load his gun.
A proud and willful nature had always been hers. Afraid though she was, she was still Suzette Foxworth Brand, a woman unwilling to surrender her free spirit to her husband or any other man, not even this callous outlaw. With a triumphant cry, Suzette yanked the gun from her skirt and threw it as far as she could.
The dark, hard face above hers changed not at all, but the rider immediately pulled up on the reins. The black horse halted. Kaytano turned the mount in the direction Suzette had thrown his gun. The other men stopped, but Kaytano motioned them to proceed. Suzette, her heart pounding, was already sorry she’d behaved so stupidly. She’d baited a killer and she was sure he must be furious, though his face and actions didn’t change.
Suzette froze when he stopped the big black horse. He took off his black leather gloves, dismounted, grabbed her about the waist, and pulled her down. Dropping the reins to the ground, he started walking, pulling her along with him. He didn’t try to hold her close to him, he didn’t put an arm around her and crush her to his side, but held her around her wrist with his long fingers. They walked across the hard, dead grass, the ground crunching under their feet. There was no other sound save Suzette’s heartbeat pounding in her ears.
He walked directly to the gun, which lay in plain sight. For the first time since he’d pulled her up into the saddle with him, he looked into her eyes.
Suzette gasped. There was a menacing familiarity about him. Where had she seen those eyes? They stood looking at each other, and though neither spoke, his flashing black eyes spoke for him. They were clearly telling her to pick up his gun.
She hated his arrogant stance, the cocksure tilt of his head, the blaze of those dark eyes telling her she would obey.
Stubbornly she glared at him, though her knees were weak and her bosom rose and fell. For what seemed an interminable time they faced each other, each determined to break the will of the other. Just when Suzette thought she was the victor, when Kaytano’s cold gaze dropped from hers and his rigid body moved, he surprised her. He didn’t stoop and pick up his gun. Slowly he stepped behind her. His fingers released her wrist. His hands went to the tops of her shoulders and he began to apply gentle pressure.
Struggling weakly, she quickly realized how helpless she was against this lean, powerful man. In seconds she was on her knees in front of him. She could feel his warmth as his hands left her shoulders and went to her head. His fingers raked through her hair and he pressed her head back against his thighs. He leaned over her and snapped her head back so suddenly she winced. She was looking up; he was looking down. Their eyes locked; narrowed black eyes met wide blue ones. She trembled visibly. Slowly he sank to his knees behind her as she lifted her head away from him, then bowed it. His breath was as labored as hers. She waited for his next move. His long arms came around her; his hands went to hers. Long, dark fingers closed over white, shaky ones. He moved her hands to rest on the gun. Then he was still.
They stayed like that for countless minutes. He meant for her to pick up the gun; he was not going to do it for her. She could feel his hot, steady breath, those intense black eyes of his impaling her.
For the first time in her life, Suzette could feel someone’s power molding her, moving her. This dark, mysterious man neither shouted at her nor begged her. There was no need. His will was so forceful it enveloped her, covered her, wrapped her up with a magical mastery. Knowing she was beaten by him, her fear of him increased as she picked up the gun slowly. They held the gun together. She heard him exhale.
Kaytano returned the gun to his holster. Rising to his feet gracefully, he put his hands on Suzette’s waist and eased her up. Her throat aching, her eyes stinging with unshed tears, Suzette tossed her hair from her eyes and started back toward the grazing horse. Kaytano followed, knowing he was the victor, that she would go dutifully to his horse without being led or pushed.
Kaytano picked up the reins and looped them over the horse’s sleek neck. Suzette avoided his eyes as she stepped up to him and put her hands on his shoulders while he lifted her across his saddle. Effortlessly he swung up behind her and slapped the reins across the horse’s flanks. The big steed went into a comfortable lope and Suzette let her tired head fall back against the tall dark rider’s chest. With one hand gripping the saddlehorn, the other around Kaytano’s back, Suzette began to cry.
She’d been with the dark bandit for less than an hour and she knew her life would never again be the same. What lay ahead she couldn’t bear to wonder about—perhaps torture, maybe even death. Already she’d lost something, though she wasn’t certain what. This mute man had taken something from her that she could never take back. Her heart drummed alarmingly as she pressed her face to the black silk shirt and wept. The bandit’s strong heartbeat was slow and steady under her cheek. He was utterly calm, while her world had turned upside down. Suzette had the uneasy feeling he’d be calm and placid when he tortured and killed her.
They rode steadily to the southwest. The winter sun was setting and the unusually warm February day grew chilly. Suzette shivered. The pink frilly blouse was no protection against the numbing cold settling over the plains. She knew it was useless to complain so she remained silent, unconsciously pressing nearer to Kaytano’s warmth.
His men were slowing their horses now, as though waiting for Kaytano. He reined the big stallion in between the stocky Mexican and the white man. He turned his head slowly, sweeping the horizon with his black eyes.
He said nothing, but pointed to a stand of trees a hundred yards to the right before spurring his horse away. Bolting down a gentle incline, the big beast reached the trees in seconds. Dismounting, Kaytano reached for the cold, shivering Suzette. Darkness was quickly closing in and the temperature was dropping rapidly now. The men reached them and dismounted. Speaking in Spanish, they addressed Kaytano, who shook his head in reply.
Kaytano reached for Suzette’s hand and she took his obediently. He led her into the trees, ducking his head to avoid the low-hanging, bare branches. She could hear the men talking behind them as they went about unsaddling the horses and building a fire. Kaytano continued walking, leading her farther away into the privacy of the trees, and she felt new terror building. When he stopped and dropped her hand she looked at him questioningly, but he simply turned away from her and put his hand over his eyes. Sighing with relief, she realized what he meant and took advantage of it, quickly turning away from him.
Afterward, her cheeks crimson, she went to him and touched his sleeve. Again he took her hand and led her back to where his men were laying out a meal. Kaytano motioned her to the ground near the fire and she gladly dropped down, stretching her cold hands out to warm them. He handed her a plate of beans and dried beef. When she tried to eat, she had difficulty swallowing and felt she would never be hungry again.
Kaytano sat near her and ate every bite on his plate. His men sat across the campfire from her, eating and talking in low voices. Far away a lone coyote called mournfully, its lonely cry echoing Suzette’s despair.
Kaytano sprang to his feet and reached for her plate. She’d hardly touched her food. He set both plates aside for the others to clean. From his saddlebags, he pulled two heavy blankets. Tossing them over his shoulder, he extended his hand to Suzette. She took it and he pulled her to her feet easily. He led her to where his black saddle lay on a grassy spot a few feet from the fire. Suzette stood watching while he dropped the blankets and too
k a coiled lariat from the saddle. He tied one end of the rope around his slim waist, leaving the loop loose enough for comfort. When he drew her close to him, Suzette lifted her arms, knowing instantly his intentions. He tied her to him, leaving four or five feet of rope between them.
Suzette was utterly exhausted. She wanted warmth and rest. While she watched the dark man spread one of the blankets on the ground in front of his saddle, she stifled a yawn and hoped he meant this as her bed.
While his three companions remained seated around the fire, Kaytano indicated that Suzette was to lie down. When she did so, he covered her with the other blanket. She sighed and pulled it up to her shivering chin. Her tired eyes fluttered open to see Kaytano getting underneath the blanket with her. She tensed. He pulled the cover up to his shoulders and turned away from her. She closed her eyes.
Loneliness and need washed over Suzette with an intensity she’d never experienced. If only she could turn back the clock. Was it possible that only Sunday night she had slept in her husband’s big arms, safe and warm?
Austin, she silently prayed, please save me. Hot tears slid down her cheeks and onto the blanket. Her slender shoulders shook with sobs, while her eyes remained tightly shut. Austin, Austin, help me. Oh, Austin, I want to come home to you, she prayed.
A movement beside her made her eyes fly open. Kaytano had turned and his dark, penetrating eyes were on her face. Sniffing, she bit her lip and tried to still her cold body. She was paralyzed with fear when she saw his arm go under the blanket. Expecting to feel those long, brown fingers moving up her body at any second, she exploded into sobs when his hand came from under the cover with a clean white handkerchief he’d taken from his trouser pocket. He laid it beside her face and wordlessly turned over once again.
Suzette grabbed the handkerchief and jammed it into her mouth, trying to smother the sounds of her sobs. It was impossible, and she cried until she became too tired to weep any longer. Sleep finally claimed her with its sweet oblivion.
One of the last thoughts to run through Suzette’s weary mind was that Austin was right about her. She was a helpless child and she needed her big, strong husband. She should have listened to him. She shouldn’t have disobeyed Austin. She never would again.
24
Cold and uncomfortable in her fitful slumber, Suzette, in the habit of sleeping close to her husband’s warm body, sleepily snuggled close to Kaytano’s back. Carefully the dark man turned to face her. She was unaware of the near smile curving the hard mouth of her captor. Kaytano pulled her gently to him, wrapping a long arm about her slender body. She moaned in her sleep and nestled her face against his throat, but she didn’t awaken.
Kaytano’s long, brown fingers spread out on her back. He pressed her against his warm chest, trapping her hands between their bodies. While Suzette slept on, Kaytano studied her pale, pretty face. Her luminous eyes were closed, the thick long lashes curving against the flawless cheeks. Her pert nose gave her a haughty, proud look. The soft, sweet mouth, slightly parted in slumber, was as tempting as the smooth white throat and the high, full breasts touching his chest. Her golden hair had come loose from restraints and tumbled about her neck and shoulders; its sweet, clean fragrance filled his senses.
Kaytano felt his stomach muscles tighten. Suppressing a groan, he turned his face from hers to look at the cold stars high above them. He trembled. He’d had her for only a few hours and already he felt his life would never again be the same. She’d taken something from him he could never get back. For the first time in his life, Kaytano was afraid.
At sunrise, Suzette awoke stiff and confused. She saw bare trees instead of a carved ceiling. She heard men speaking in Spanish. Then it all came back to her. Before she could rise, the tall, dark man was standing over her, looking down at her with those cold, black eyes. She blinked at him and sat up, trying to scramble to her feet. He quickly crouched down beside her, stopping her with a hand on her shoulder.
He handed her a cup of steaming hot coffee and watched while she drank it down. Her mind was racing. It was time she stopped behaving like a frightened child. She had been taken by bandits and their purpose could only be money. This cruel Indian knew she was married to a very wealthy man and he intended to ransom her. Were that the case—what else could it be?—she was quite safe. Alive, she was valuable; dead, she was worthless. She would explain to these people that it was time to send a message to Austin. They might not know he was in Chicago; she would tell them so they might proceed with the negotiations.
Holding the tin cup between her cold palms, Suzette smiled at Kaytano. “I know who you are, you’re Kaytano. I’ve read about you, as has everyone in Texas. I’m sure you must know my husband, Austin Brand, is a rich man. You’ll have no trouble with Austin; he loves me very much and will gladly pay you for my safe return. I’m afraid you are unaware that he is in Chicago now on business and is staying at the Palace Hotel. Why don’t we go to some town near here and you can wire him? I guarantee you, you’ll have your money with no delay.” Pausing, she studied his smooth, expressionless face. If he understood a word she said, he gave no indication. He took the coffee tin from her hands, rose, and emptied the remaining brew, then put a hand to her elbow to help her up.
“Please,” she tried again, “he’ll pay for my return. There’s no reason for us to ride farther. Take me to a town. You’ll get as much as you ask for.” Kaytano didn’t reply, but gathered up the blankets. Within minutes she was again sitting in front of him as they thundered across the plains. Her mind kept on churning. When they stopped, she would go to the white man and plead her case. Perhaps this dark man she rode with spoke no English. She’d heard nothing but Spanish since she’d been taken. Maybe Kaytano spoke only Spanish and an Indian tongue. That had to be it. He didn’t understand her. If he had understood, he’d contact Austin immediately and she’d be free soon. That was it—a simple lack of communication. When they stopped for a meal, she would speak to the white man and bring this frightening situation to an end.
Feeling better about her chances, Suzette tried to relax as much as possible. It wasn’t easy. She was tired and dirty and she longed for a nice hot bath and some good food. Her hair was a tangled, frightful mess, her pink wool skirt and filmy blouse wrinkled and filthy from a night on the ground. Surprisingly enough, however, she didn’t feel as bad as she should have after sleeping on the cold ground with only a blanket. It was a miracle she’d slept at all. Oddly, she couldn’t remember suffering from the cold or waking in the night.
Suzette sat uncomfortably, leaning away from the hard man whose dark eyes constantly swept the horizon. Determined she would not touch him, she clung to the horn with both hands, in constant danger of falling. She felt her back would surely break before they stopped again. Balancing herself in such an awkward position already was taking its toll. She squirmed, she sighed, and she kept casting daggerlike glances at the hard-hearted Kaytano.
Suddenly Kaytano pulled his horse up. He wrapped the reins around the saddlehorn and ignored the look Suzette gave him. To her shock, his hand went to her long pink skirt; before she could protest, he’d pulled its heavy folds up over her knees. Fighting the lacy petticoats she wore, he yanked them up, too, while Suzette glared at him and shouted, “You animal! What in blazes are you doing? You harm me and my husband won’t pay you a cent! Do you hear me?”
Trapped in a swirl of pink wool and lacy petticoats, Suzette reddened as her long, stockinged legs were exposed to the cold biting air and his piercing eyes. In seconds she was astride the saddle and her long skirts and petticoats were flowing about her while the hands that had arranged them were pulling her back against him. Sputtering and jerking, she was subdued and pinned within the encircling arms as her head rested on his left shoulder in the curve of his neck. “You filthy half-breed!” she cried, knowing full well he didn’t understand a word she was saying. “You have the nerve to put your dirty hands on me! You’ll hang from the tallest tree once I’m safe, you miserable sa
vage!”
Though Suzette would never let on to Kaytano, she was much more comfortable now. She didn’t have to worry constantly about falling, and with his chest to cushion her aching back, she could almost relax. She let her eyes flicker to his face, just above hers. She frowned. While her face felt chapped and unclean and her hair felt dirty and tangled, the half-breed’s face was freshly shaven and shiny-clean. He wore no hat today and his long, thick hair gleamed in the sunlight. He’d worn a black silk shirt yesterday. Today a snowy-white shirt of soft cotton looked as clean and fresh as Austin’s. Unwittingly turning her face into his throat, she inhaled deeply and her senses were assailed with a clean, masculine scent. This man’s personal habits were obviously those of a refined gentleman, though he lived the life of an animal. She must not forget that he was cruel and heartless, a dangerous beast that would kill her with his bare hands. His cleanliness and dark good looks belied the power and menace of the serpent occupying his slim, brown body.
The sun had traveled all the way up and was heading in the other direction before the gang stopped to eat. Suzette had slept against Kaytano for the past hour. So sound was her slumber that he gently shook her awake to dismount.
Her first waking thought was to get near enough to the white man to speak to him. Glancing nervously at Kaytano while he unsaddled the lathered black horse, she almost smiled at her small victory. Already the half-breed trusted her enough to turn his back on her. Quietly she lifted her skirts and hurried to where the white man was unsaddling a dun-colored stallion.
Catching his sleeve, Suzette let the words tumble out. “Please!” she begged, “you must listen to me. Your leader doesn’t understand me so I have to talk to you. My husband is rich. He’ll gladly pay for my safe return. Will you help me?” The tall man stared down at her, his arm across his horse. She saw little interest in his eyes, but she hurried on, anxious to make him understand. “You see, my husband is in Chicago. We’ll wire him and he’ll make arrangements to give you the money. There’s no need to continue traveling. Take me to a rail depot. Wire my husband; I promise you’ll get your money.” Suzette pushed her tangled hair over her shoulder and stepped closer, her voice becoming shrill. “Don’t you understand? You must help me! Dear God, you’re a white man! Do you want to see…do you…” Suzette’s words trailed off. The tall white man was no longer looking at her but at something above her head. In his pale eyes was a flicker of fear. Suzette whirled about and bumped into the tall, dark Kaytano. Wordlessly he steadied her, his cold eyes on her trembling lips. “Please.” She looked up at him in desperation. “I…I…” She shook her head and fell silent, knowing it was hopeless.