Wayward Lady

by Nan Ryan

  She could wait no longer. She splashed into the water, screaming from the minute her toe hit the stream. It was so icy it took her breath away, but she doggedly pressed on, going farther into the depths, the water rising to her knees, her hips, her waist, while she trailed her fingers in the splash. Gasping, she finally sat down on the pebbled bottom, letting the cold, clear water close over her shoulders. Sitting on her heels, she let her body adapt to the water’s temperature. Soon she sighed, then rose.

  “Wonderful!” she called to the birds and trees and blue sky. “Perfect! Marvelous!” She scrambled to the bank to get her soap. Humming, she lathered her silky body and long golden hair. In a world all her own, Suzette sensuously rubbed the soap over her slippery flesh and addressed the strange man back in camp.

  “Ah, Kaytano,” she breathed aloud, working the bar of soap around her breasts, “you may be an animal, but you have something in common with me. You like being clean, thank God! Do you bathe in this creek? Do you come here each morning and wash that sleek body?” She laughed again and continued to caress her silky body with the soap.

  Two hundred feet above her, atop a rocky ledge, Kaytano’s black eyes were fastened on the beautiful naked girl innocently displaying her charms. His chest constricted when he heard her speak his name. Unable to tear his eyes from her bare beauty, Kaytano felt his love for her growing.

  Kaytano closed his eyes. From the beginning this lovely young woman had touched him; now he was obsessed with her. She filled his head with foolish dreams. He’d told himself she was only a woman, like any other. But it did no good. Suzette was his beautiful blond dream, and to him she was at this very minute properly attired and in the proper place. The very ledge where he sat adoring her was called Mesa de los Angeles, Mesa of the Angels. That was what Suzette was. A fair angel. She was his beautiful naked angel and he longed to keep her here, alone with him, forever.

  Suzette, refreshed, rested, and almost happy, dressed lazily after her bath and started back toward the camp. In no hurry to get back, she walked slowly, stopping to pick a wildflower or watch a meadowlark or white-throated canyon wren. And then something stopped her in her tracks. On a ledge of the mesa above her, a bronzed eagle perched, looking at her. A huge predator, he stood a good three feet tall. His hooked beak was a bluish color, his tail black-tipped. His wings were outstretched, ready for flight. His deadly talons were as black as night, and his plumage so dark brown it looked black. The hunter sat on the mountain, scanning the whole of the valley below him.

  Suzette shuddered, unable to take her eyes off the majestic eagle. Something about the mighty bird reminded her of Kaytano. He, too, was a loner, unafraid, regal—and dangerous. Suzette shouted up at the big bird, “Hey, Kaytano! Looking for some creature to swoop down on? Searching for some unsuspecting beast to carry away in those dark talons?” She laughed and moved on, the hair on the back of her neck standing up. The eagle watched her go.

  Near a dead log on the canyon’s floor, a Texas diamondback rattler dozed peacefully. Suzette, her long thick hair still damp from her bath, walked toward the log, though it was unnecessary for her to step onto or over it to follow the path she’d taken to the creek.

  Running her fingers through her hair, she decided she’d stay in the peaceful canyon until her hair was completely dry. As she looked about for a nice grassy spot, her eyes fell on the log.

  Seconds later she sat astride it. She tossed her towel and soap down and raised her hairbrush. Rudely awakened, the disgruntled diamondback gave a warning rattle, but Suzette, singing to herself, never heard it. The rattler began to blow steam and slowly prepared to strike. If Suzette had held perfectly still, the angry snake might have slithered away. Instead, she bent her head over, tossing her hair down over her face, brushing at it with long strokes.

  Suzette heard the shout, the shot, and the rattle at the same time. She screamed and raised her head as the snake struck. The bullet pierced the snake’s head within a sixteenth of a second after it struck her. Stunned and confused, she looked up to see Kaytano toss his gun to the ground and run to her. She rose, forming his name on her lips, the brush still in her hand. Then it all became a blur.

  When she could focus her eyes again, she was lying on her back. Kaytano was on his knees beside her. In his hand was his long hunting knife, glinting in the sun. She clung to her hairbrush, watching while he ripped her trouser leg and promptly stuck the point of the knife directly into the side of her right leg, three inches above the knee. She jerked when the steel cut her flesh, but Kaytano’s knee was on her stomach, holding her down. She screamed and clung to her hairbrush as blood and poison intermingled and gushed from her leg.

  Kaytano moved his knee from her and stretched out on his stomach, the knife discarded. He held her bare leg in both his hands and lowered his mouth to the new wound. He sucked at the venom, spitting it onto the ground. Immediately he was back at the snakebite, sucking vigorously while Suzette watched the blue ribbon of sky undulate. Dizzy, she closed her eyes and felt Kaytano’s lips pulling on her flesh. He kept sucking out the deadly poison until he was exhausted and coughing. And then he was over her, looking into her eyes, calling her name. “Suzette, do you hear me? Are you all right? It’s Kaytano, Suzette.”

  She looked up into his worried black eyes and smiled. “Lucky you came along. I didn’t see the snake. I’m sorry.”

  Kaytano took the brush from her cold hand and laid it aside. “It isn’t your fault, it’s mine. Are you in pain? Are you sick, Suzette?”

  Bile rising rapidly in her throat, she nodded with difficulty. “I…I need to…”

  “Yes,” he said soothingly and lifted her up. “It’s all right, it’s okay.” He sat down and supported her weight, helping her to vomit, his heart pounding. Gently holding her damp hair off her face, he talked to her softly. “I got the poison, Suzette. I’m sure I got it all. You’ll be okay, I promise.” He handed her a clean handkerchief from his pocket.

  “Thanks,” she said weakly, wiping tears from her eyes.

  “Lie down.” He helped ease her to the grass. Then he stood up, whistled, and in seconds Darkness cantered to him. “I’ll take you home,” he said and lifted her up across the saddle. Looping the reins over Darkness’s neck, he mounted behind her, holding her in the crook of his arm. “Don’t be afraid. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  Suzette, weak, dizzy, and nauseated, looked up into the dark face. Never had she seen the renegade look so unsettled. There was real fear in those black eyes—concern for her. But there was something more. Warmth. He kept glancing down at her face, and with each look his eyes grew warmer. If she didn’t know him better, she would have sworn he cared for her. Fleetingly she thought he had the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen and knew that she would never be able to forget the warm light she saw burning there.

  Back at Robber’s Roost, Kaytano cleaned the wound with whiskey and bandaged it with clean, white cloth strips. Throughout the night, he kept watch beside her bed. Suzette slept like a baby and was shocked when she opened her eyes at sunup to see a tired, gaunt Kaytano, his dark face covered with a stubble of beard, leaning over the bed and looking down at her.

  “Kaytano,” she asked softly, “why aren’t you in bed?”

  Kaytano looked at the rosy cheeks, the dazzling blue eyes, the soft, sweet, berry-red lips, and knew that she was going to be fine. Wanting more than anything in the world to lower his face to hers and cover that pouty mouth with his own, he said evenly, “It’s time I check your bandage.” He turned the covers up over her knees, while Suzette, heart speeding when he touched her, clutched the sheet to her breasts and watched him gently remove the bandage. When he saw it, he winced and murmured, “I’m sorry, Suzette.”

  “Why should you be sorry? You saved my life. I’m lucky you happened to be so close.” As though the thought just occurred to her, she added, “Why were you there, Kaytano?”

  Kaytano slowly lifted his eyes to hers. “Does it matter?”r />
  “No,” she said. “I’m just glad you were.”

  Three days after the snakebite, Pancho rode into camp, a packhorse behind him. Suzette saw him through the open window. She watched Kaytano go out to meet the small, gray-haired man. When Kaytano asked him a question, Pancho nodded his head and patted the large saddlebags draped over the packhorse.

  Half an hour later, Kaytano knocked on the bedroom door. He came in carrying an armload of bound leather books. Without a word he placed the stack of books beside her on the bed.

  Smiling up at him, she said, “Where did these come from?”

  “They were brought here for your pleasure. I didn’t know what kind of books you like, so I—”

  “Thank you. I love to read and it was thoughtful of you.” Her lips were parted, and her eyes sparkled. Kaytano nodded and left the room. It was not until he’d reached the other side of her door that he smiled. For one brief instant, he leaned his dark head back against the closed door and smiled broadly.

  In late July Kaytano rode out of camp alone. Suzette was curious, but didn’t dare ask where he was going. He’d stood in their room strapping his gunbelt around slim hips, and Suzette stood by the window watching him.

  “I will be gone three or four days. While I’m away, Pancho will be guarding you. He will be outside your door each night.”

  “I wouldn’t try to escape, so it’s not necessary to have him guard me.”

  His gaze swung to her. She wore no shoes, and her shiny blond hair was pinned haphazardly on top of her head. Swallowing, Kaytano tried not to think how much he wanted to take her into his arms and press her against him. “Suzette, you don’t understand. Pancho is to guard you. It is your safety I’m talking about.”

  “Guard me from whom?” She put her hands on her hips and padded across the room to stand before him.

  Kaytano took a step backward. “Adíos. I’ll see you in a few days.”

  “Kaytano”—Suzette took a step forward—“can I walk you to your horse?”

  His heart almost stopped, but he said evenly, “Why not?”

  Darkness, saddled and waiting, was hitched to a post at the compound’s main entrance. Silently Kaytano and Suzette walked across the sun-blanched courtyard, Suzette’s bare feet stinging and burning. Determined not to say anything, she carefully picked her way across the scorching ground. Kaytano stopped, but Suzette, the soles of her feet on fire, went determinedly on her way, suffering with every step. She turned to look at Kaytano.

  He almost smiled. His eyes were smiling. Suzette laughed. He came to her, put his hands to her waist, and lifted her from the hot ground. Holding her away from his long body, he carried her back to the porch. Suzette let her hands rest on his shoulders and said, “Did I complain?”

  Depositing her on the veranda, he said softly, “No. Sometimes I wish you would.”

  Suzette’s laughter died. “What do you mean?”

  He didn’t answer, but walked across the courtyard. She watched as he mounted Darkness and the gates swung open to let him out. A hand at her forehead to shade her eyes, Suzette suddenly hoped very much that he would turn and look at her as he rode away. He was speaking to Pancho now. After wrapping the reins around the saddlehorn, Kaytano untied the white silk bandanna he wore at his throat. Lifting his long arms, he tied it around his forehead. He was making himself more of an Indian. She felt a chill; the man was a Kiowa, a savage, an outlaw.

  She pressed her hands together. I hate him, she told herself. I hate Kaytano, I hate… He was riding away, Darkness prancing to the gate. Suzette’s eyes were locked on the dark horse and rider. I hate him, I… Abruptly, he reined his horse in a semicircle and looked directly at her. Just at her. Then he turned and galloped out of sight.

  “I hate him,” she repeated, aloud this time. “I…I…dear God, please let me hate him.” She turned and disappeared into their room. When she came into the kitchen to prepare the evening meal, Maria saw her red, puffy eyes and assumed it was because Kaytano was gone.

  Suzette didn’t realize it, but Maria was correct.

  Bedtime came and Suzette found it hard to sleep without Kaytano in the room. All the nights she’d longed for privacy, all the times she’d cast sideways glances at the half-breed, hating him for holding her captive, all the dark, quiet nights she’d been terrified he would violate her—these feelings had disappeared in the last few weeks.

  Suzette stood pensively looking out the window. Outwardly, she was a calm young woman. Inside, the turbulence was devastating, threatening to tear her apart. Tormented with strange new feelings and unbearable guilt, she tried once again to sort out her innermost desires and wishes, to find the cause for her new dilemma and, having faced it, to eliminate it.

  The facts were simple enough. Against her will, she’d been taken prisoner by a daring, dark bandit. He’d held her for months, made her share his room, made her dependent on him for her safety, forced her to live as he lived. Giving the devil his due, the renegade was rakishly handsome, surprisingly intelligent, remarkably intuitive, and capable of some kindness.

  Tipping the scales heavily on the other side, Austin was completely honest, amazingly successful, ever indulgent, and constantly affectionate. Any woman in her right mind would be gloriously happy to be the pampered wife of Austin Brand. His age was an advantage: he’d lived longer, so he was wiser. If he were here, he would explain what was happening to her. He would know that the changing relationship between her and Kaytano was the natural evolution of a situation beyond her control. Austin, she was certain, would tell her that she need not be alarmed if there were moments when she felt regard for the renegade. It was a normal emotion that would evaporate as soon as she was back home where she belonged.

  Suzette turned from the window, crossed the room, and stretched out on her bed. Always she’d been completely honest with herself. It was time to be honest now, no matter how painful. The truth was that the thought of going home to Austin frightened her almost as much as never going home. She’d had a wonderful life as Austin’s wife; she’d been happy, he had been happy. Would they ever be again?

  Tears filled her eyes. Satan must surely be laughing if he could see into her mind. To no one on earth could she admit the shocking, horrible truth. If the very demon who laughed at her agony would give her a choice on this hot, still night, if he came out of hell and stood at the foot of her bed and told her she could have exactly what she wanted, that when another dawn bathed the earth in heavenly light she could either be lying in Austin’s arms in their bed on the big Brand ranch in Jacksboro, or in Kaytano’s dark arms in his narrow bed in this hot little room, what would her choice be?

  Suzette’s quiet tears turned to sobs. She’d let the appalling truth surface. Her chest felt as if it would explode with the weight of her agony. Her pain was unbearable, made more intense by the knowledge she could turn to neither Austin nor Kaytano for solace. Both men would think her insane. Austin would be disgusted, Kaytano amused. Austin’s heart would be broken, Kaytano’s hardened. Austin’s life would be shattered, Kaytano’s changed none at all. To Austin she was everything, to Kaytano nothing.

  “Señora.” Pancho was knocking on the door. “Please, señora, open the door.”

  Suzette sat up hurriedly, wiping at her eyes. She’d forgotten the kind, gray-haired man was just beyond the door. She’d failed to consider what he might think when he heard her sobs. She had no choice, so she opened the door. Pancho, his distinguished dark face creased with concern, stepped inside.

  He closed the door behind him when he saw her. For a time he did nothing more than put a kind hand on her shoulder. Finally he said ever so softly, “Sweet señora, you cry because you cannot forget your husband.”

  Suzette looked into his warm, dark eyes. “No, Pancho, I cry because I can forget.”

  Suzette felt a little better after the soul-cleansing and finally she slept. She missed Kaytano and she no longer tried to pretend otherwise. Each meal when she served the food, h
er eyes automatically went to his empty place; at night when it was time for sleep, she lay looking at Kaytano’s bed, while she lay on her own, fully clothed. Sleep eluded her and she tossed and turned, longing for the slim, handsome half-breed’s return. Weary and too warm, Suzette rose, stripped, and crawled naked into Kaytano’s bed. Hugging his pillow to her bare breasts, she slept.

  On the third day of his absence, Suzette was in her room, awaiting his return. Pancho had told her that there was a possibility Kaytano would be arriving in the afternoon, but he didn’t really expect him until the next day. Suzette did. She knew Kaytano would come home today. Excitement stirred within her and she kept a watchful eye on the window while she sat cross-legged on her bed reading.

  It was the hottest, quietest part of the afternoon when Suzette, who was dozing, heard a commotion. She rose and walked to the window, reaching it in time to see the heavy front gates swing open. Her pulse began to pound.

  Darkness pranced into the hot courtyard, his sleek, black coat shimmering in the brilliant sunshine. On his back, Kaytano, hat low over his eyes, sat regally in the saddle. Pancho rushed to meet him. Kaytano dismounted, tossing the reins to the guard at the gate. He spoke to Pancho, but had not yet looked toward the house. Other men were making their way to the pair, and Suzette frowned; they would all want to greet him and it would be ages before he came inside.

  She was wrong. With a shake of his head, he stepped through the gathering crowd. Now he was inside the big outer room; she could hear his footsteps approaching. Her pulse pounded no longer. It had stopped.

  The bedroom door opened slowly.