Watching the by-play between Katlin and Ben, Mitch didn't know whether to laugh or to be upset. Given the circumstances, Mitch recognized Ben had every right to be concerned for Katlin's safety. On the other hand, he knew there was no blood kinship between the two and Mitch wasn't sure he cared for Ben's proprietary attitude toward his so-called niece.
Mitch looked at Katlin. She was positively radiant, unmistakably wearing the look of a well-loved, satisfied woman. If Ben's tight-lipped expression and clenched fists as he searched Katlin's features was anything to go by, his friend hadn't missed the signs. So what if they had anticipated their wedding vows by one night? It was the most incredible night of his life. Both he and Katlin were consenting adults for Christ's sake. Maybe Ben did feel responsible for her, but he'd be damned if he was going to let his friend make him feel like some hormone driven adolescent who'd been caught with his pants down.
Ben had spent the better part of last night on the porch of the Drover's Cottage watching the spectacular lightning display in the distance. He knew it wouldn't take much to spark the parched prairie grass, setting off a raging inferno which could burn thousands of acres, consuming everything in its path before it burnt itself out or was put out by rain. As it was, the saloons in town were practically deserted last night, with every drover and cowboy in the area fearing the worst and keeping a close eye on the herds of cattle in and around Abilene. Had the storm hit the town, it could have sent the massive herds into a panicked stampede that could well have leveled the entire town. Already this morning he'd heard stories about the freak storm which had miraculously bypassed them. Despite its wicked reputation, it would seem someone upstairs had indeed watched over Abilene, Kansas last night.
"You made it back safe and sound. That's all that matters," Ben responded to Katlin's apology. "Everything go all right last night? Except for the storm?"
Katlin knew what Ben was asking. Not knowing she'd told Mitch her suspicions regarding the Westfields, he didn't want to give her away. "It's okay, Ben. I told Mitch everything. And yes, we have our motive, now all we need is something to back it up."
Mitch dismounted, secured his horse to the hitching post, then walked around to Katlin's side and reached up to help her from her own mount. He'd been right last night when he warned her the ride back to town might be an uncomfortable one. Katlin thought she'd done a pretty good job of hiding her discomfort until she lifted her right leg up and over the saddle horn. Their eyes met, and Mitch's lips twitched into a knowing grin. The expression in his eyes clearly said, "I told you so."
He'd also said she wouldn't thank him for it. Wrong. After Mitch lifted her from the saddle and set her down on the sidewalk, Katlin looked up at him and met his knowing grin with one of her own. "Thank you, Mitch," she said with sugar coated sweetness, and they both knew she wasn't thanking him for helping her from her horse.
Chuckling softly, Mitch pulled her into his arms for a hug and leaned down to kiss the top of her head. "Tired?" he asked softly.
"I haven't decided yet," Katlin answered then yawned before she could stifle it.
"Get some sleep, darlin'," Mitch insisted, holding her at arms length. "You have plenty of time before you have to make yourself beautiful for the wedding." Then, leaning down, he whispered in her ear, "Can't have the bride falling asleep on our wedding night."
Not bloody well likely, Katlin thought to herself. Still, Katlin couldn't deny that a nice long nap sounded wonderful. "The same thing could be said for the groom," she countered.
"That it could," Mitch agreed wryly. "Why don't I have breakfast sent over to you when I get back to my hotel? I'll have breakfast then I'll take my own advice. Deal?"
"Deal."
Mitch looked toward Ben. "Care to join me at The Drover's Cottage for breakfast, Ben? I'll fill you in on our supper with my friends," Mitch asked, emphasizing the word friends sarcastically.
Recognizing that Katlin, who was making a valiant if unsuccessful effort to stifle her yawns, needed sleep more than she needed to answer his questions, Ben nodded his head in response to Mitch's offer. "Sure, why not."
Reaching up, Katlin slid her hand to the nape of Mitch's neck and pulled his lips toward hers. "I'll see you at the church," Katlin said just before their lips met in a tender goodbye kiss.
"You can count on it, darlin'."
"Good. I'd hate to be forced to send my Uncle Ben after you with a shotgun," Katlin teased.
"In case you haven't noticed, I think he already has that in mind."
Katlin turned to Ben and went up on her toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. "I'm really sorry we worried you, Ben."
"There's nothing to be sorry for," Ben insisted. "Last night's storm came up out of nowhere. I'm just glad you found somewhere . . . ." Ben paused as if something just occurred to him. He knew the range surrounding Abilene like the back of his hand, and, unless there was something he'd missed, there was nothing between the Westfield ranch and town that would have provided shelter from a storm as violent as the one they'd had last night.
Ben looked from Mitch to Katlin. "Just where did you . . . ?"
Katlin laughed before he completed his question. "Hearing Mitch explain that one
would almost be worth foregoing breakfast in bed and sleep. Almost," was Katlin's parting shot before she turned and walked into the Bull's Head without a backward glance.
* * * *
Katlin lay on the bed looking up at the ceiling counting beams, counting nails in the beams. Like she'd done as a child trying to see objects in the shapes of clouds, she actually saw a design in the wood which looked like the face of the Wicked Witch of the West from The Wizard Of Oz. Just to the left of the witch was a design that looked like . . . good Lord, it was the exact shape of an erect penis. "n image of Mitch flashed through her mind. She could see him standing above her, breathtakingly nude, looking like a pagan warrior highlighted within a backdrop of jagged streaks of lightning. She groaned and jack-knifed into a sitting position.
She'd already leafed through the stack of Beadles Dime Novels she'd found on the top shelf of the armoire. They were cheap paperback productions which glorified and romanticized the exploits of the famous and infamous gunfighters of the time; John Wesley Hardan, Jessie James, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, Bat Masterson, and Wyatt Erp, just to name a few. One featuring Ben Thompson was conspicuously absent. When she had the chance, she would check with Tom and see if he could get one for her. Now that one she'd like to have. She also realized that just like her cheap calculator was a valuable commodity in this time period, the dime novels would be worth a fortune as collector's items in her time.
Looking at her watch, she noted it was only fifteen minutes later than the last time she looked. It was only nine a.m. Tom was bringing water up for her bath at two. The wedding was at four, leaving six hours to get through. This was her wedding day. She was nervous, keyed up, gloriously happy, and scared to death.
True to his word, Mitch had her breakfast delivered, and she'd chowed down like someone suffering cholesterol withdrawal. That was less than an hour ago. The food had revitalized her, and she was never further from sleep.
Katlin got to her feet and went to the armoire. She opened the door, pulled out her wedding dress, then walked to the mirror and held the dress up to her. She'd known the simple prairie-style dress was hers the moment she saw it. It wasn't satin and lace. It didn't have sequins or pearls, but she loved it. The ivory floor-length dress was made of a soft, almost gauze type fabric, trimmed at the scooped neckline, cuffs, and hem with fine Victorian lace. The delicate simplicity of the dress somehow fit the time, the place, and it fit her. There was something else, something about this particular dress that touched her in some indefinable way. What was it?
As Katlin watched, the mirror in front of her began to shimmer and blur. When it cleared, she could see the image of a painting. A painting of her mother wearing a similar dress. Katlin's heart clenched in her chest, her eyes filled, and sh
e remembered.
Until her mother's death, the painting had hung above the mantle in her home. Katlin didn't know when her father removed it, she only knew that one day it was gone, and she'd never seen it again. In the painting her mother was in a field of wild flowers, her dress and her hair, so much like Katlin's own, were blowing in the breeze. On her head was an old fashioned coronet of flowers. The painter had managed to capture the radiance, the absolute uninhibited happiness of the woman in the painting.
"Your father had the painter copy a photograph that was taken of your mother on their wedding day," Sing's voice whispered inside her head. "My wedding gift to you."
Katlin was grateful she could communicate with Sing inside her mind because she couldn't have spoken if her life depended on it. "Bless you, my old friend. You couldn't have given a more precious gift. Somehow I'll feel she's sharing the day with me. Thank you."
"She is, Little One. She is."
There was a thump behind her, and the spell was broken. Katlin turned to see Bart with his head sticking through an opening in the wall.
"Back, Bart," Katlin called as she moved to the wall to investigate. The dog backed off and Katlin looked through the opening, seeing the hidden stairway that was Ben's secret exit from the saloon. "Well I'll be dammed," Katlin muttered. "Ben, you sly dog. You didn't tell me about this because you didn't want me to leave without either you or Mitch playing watchdog."
"But I already have a watch dog. Don't I boy?" Katlin said to Bart and reached out to scratch him behind the ears.
After returning her dress to the armoire, Katlin glanced toward the mirror where Sing had shown her the image of the painting of her mother. Remembering the large patch of wild flowers she and Mitch passed when they returned to town, Katlin was determined to make a coronet of flowers for her hair just like the one her mother had worn for her wedding.
"Come on, boy. Let's go for a walk," Katlin told her dog. Mitch and Ben figured she'd sleep for hours, and, thanks to Ben's little secret, she could get her flowers and be back before anyone knew she was gone. Katlin glanced at her watch before she slipped through the exit, closing it carefully behind her. Nine-twenty, she'd be back in less than an hour.
Rick Westfield had been watching the alley behind the Bull's Head, trying to figure out how to get to the delectable Miss McKinnen when he saw a panel at the back of the building open and his target step into the alley unescorted, except for that devil dog of hers. Looking over at his hired gun, Gant, he chuckled. "Like taking candy from a baby."
She'd just stepped out of an alley on the outskirts of town, her flowers in view, when a shot rang out. Bart yelped, then went down. "No," Katlin cried out and fell to her knees beside the animal that had been her best friend. The blood on her hands was the last thing Katlin saw before she felt a blinding pain at the back of her head, and everything went black.
The ever faithful Bart whimpered, rolled over, and struggled unsuccessfully to rise on all fours. Animal instinct took over. His mistress was in trouble, and he had to get help. Slowly, using his front paws, the injured animal began belly crawling in the direction of the Bull's Head saloon.
What happened? Katlin's head was pounding. Remembering what it felt like when she opened her eyes with a hangover, she cautiously kept her eyes closed as she waited for the world to stabilize. Instinctively, she tried to move her hand to her aching head and found her arm wouldn't move. Neither arm would move. She could feel the rough texture of rope biting into her wrists. Further movement confirmed her ankles were tied to each corner at the foot of the bed beneath her. Her feet were cold, her legs were cold, and Katlin knew what she'd find when she found the courage to open her eyes. Her boots and her jeans had been removed while she was unconscious. Dear God, what if . . . . Westfield! It had to be Westfield. "n image of Bart flashed through her mind. That cowardly son-of-a-bitch shot her dog. Katlin's eyes snapped open.
"So, Sleeping Beauty decided to wake up," Rick remarked casually as he left his position by the door and approached the bed. Leaning down, he ran finger tips across her cheek, down the side of her neck, and into the cleavage revealed through the opening at the top of her blouse.
Fury almost choked her as words tripped over themselves in her mind. Her desire to verbally rip Rick Westfield to shreds was nearly overwhelming. Fortunately, years of perfecting her instincts for self preservation enabled her to hold her tongue as she struggled for control. She needed to buy some time. It was time to resurrect the Ice Princess and put on the performance of her life. There was no way she'd let this smug bastard beat her. His kind got high on the fear, on the pain they could inflict, on the control, and she'd be damned if she'd give him the satisfaction.
Only a fool would pretend she didn't know his intent. It was there in his heated gaze and the unmistakable erection straining the front of his pants. Katlin allowed her eyes to slide up his body, the contempt in her expression was undisguised as she met his gaze without flinching. When she spoke, her tone was cold, devoid of emotion. "You're a dead man."
Rick threw his head back and laughed. "Brave words coming form a woman on her back with her legs spread." His eyes slid down her body to rest where she was protected by nothing more than a pair of skimpy, white lace, bikini panties.
Katlin continued to hold him in her withering glare, refusing to respond.
Pulling out his pocket watch, Rick checked the time then replaced it with a reluctant sigh. "As much as I hate to put off our fun, I'm afraid I have to get back to the ranch and collect the old man. In case you haven't noticed, I'm wearing my best Sunday go to meetin' clothes. We have to put in an appearance in town for a wedding," he informed her with a smug grin twisting his lips. "It wouldn't do to let anyone suspect we knew in advance that the bride would be leaving the groom at the alter. Would it? I even thought it might be a nice touch to offer to be my old friend's best man."
It was on the tip of Katlin's tongue to inform Rick that when she was discovered missing, both Mitch and Ben would know he was behind it. She wanted to throw in his face that Mitch knew exactly what his so-called friends had been up to. Katlin also knew by doing so she could well be signing her own death warrant. She had to react smart not emotionally. Rick had already told her he was leaving her to go into town. That gave her some time to try to figure out a way to escape.
"What? Nothing to say?" Rick taunted. "Maybe you're disappointed that I have to leave you so soon." With a sadistic glint in his eyes, Rick sat on the side of the bed and leaned over her. "I still have enough time to give us both a taste of what we have to look forward to when I get back."
Katlin brought all the iron will she could muster into play as she forced herself not to recoil, not to react in any way as his lips met hers in a brutal kiss and his hands gripped her blouse, ripping it open. He pulled back and searched her features. Seeing nothing beyond her icy disdain, his jaw clenched. Still holding her gaze, his hands went to her breasts, he cupped her in his palms, clasp her nipples between his thumb and forefinger and began to tug and pinch.
All the mental control in the world could not have prevented her nipples from hardening in reaction to the stimulation. They got hard when they got cold. It didn't mean she was turned on. Unfortunately, Rick didn't see it that way.
"I was hoping you'd respond to the rough stuff. The cold ones usually do," he taunted with a satisfied chuckle before he parted her blouse, exposing her lace encased breasts. "What do we have here?" he asked, eyeing her bra. Never seeing such a garment and having no idea how to remove it, Rick pulled a knife from his boot, slid the blade into her cleavage, and pulled upward, effectively cutting through the elastic. The first thing he saw when he exposed her naked breasts was the vivid red mark Mitch had left on her last night.
"You whore," Rick hissed through clenched teeth before he delivered a vicious back-handed blow to the right side of her face.
Her lip was cut, Katlin could taste the blood as she turned her head back and faced him without so much as a blink b
efore she smiled. "What's the matter, Rick? Can't handle knowing Mitch got there before you? Is that why you go after innocent virgins? Because they can't compare you to other men and find you lacking?" It was an incredibly stupid thing to say. She'd known it before the words left her mouth, but he'd pushed her control beyond the point of her endurance.
"You bitch," Rick bellowed as he lunged to his feet. He unfastened the front of his pants, pulled out his erection, and stood over her stroking himself. "Before I'm through with you, you'll know what it's liked to be fucked by a real man."
Deliberately allowing her eyes to slide slowly down Rick's body, Katlin eyed the erection he was holding in front of him like a trophy, and then she chuckled. "From what I can see, Westfield . . . you already don't measure up."
Red-faced with rage, Rick reach down and picked up the knife he'd laid on the bed beside her. He raised his arm preparing to strike. Katlin knew she was about to die.
"Rick," someone shouted from outside then knocked on the door. "You wanted me to let you know when it was time to go."
Startled by the unexpected interruption, Rick's hand froze barely inches from Katlin's exposed chest. He backed off, closed his eyes, and took several ragged breaths. "Oh no. You're not going to get off that easy. You aren't going to goad me into cheating myself out of the fun of breaking you." He fastened his pants and stalked toward the door then turned and looked back at her. "I'm going to take you in every way a man can take a woman. Have you ever fantasized about being with several men at the same time, Katlin? I find it a real turn on to watch, and my men like it when I share, especially Gant. The bastard is hung like a damn horse. Even the whores in town won't take him." Rick paused long enough to let the horror of his words sink in. "Think about that until I get back tonight and get used to the idea. I plan to keep you around for a long time. Or at least until I get tired of you. And then, if you're lucky, I'll kill you before I give you to Gant."
The Bond Unbroken Page 25