Just like it happened when he was downstairs behind the bar, the hair raised on Tom's arms, and a chill went down his back. He had heard Ben and Mitch's conversation. He heard them leave, yet he still felt as if someone else was in the room. He forced back the uneasy sensation and continued working on removing the bullet which had lodged itself between two ribs, as such, Bart had sustained no internal damage. As the book instructed, Tom used the specified liquid to cleanse the wound, stitched it closed, then applied the ointment said to help prevent infection. After applying the bandage, there was nothing left to do but wait. He carefully returned the supplies to their proper places in the bag, all except the instruments he'd used to remove the bullet, those he set aside to be tended to later. The book said they had to be boiled and disinfected with the liquid in the bag before they could be reused.
Tom stroked his hand down Bart's silky neck. "I done all I can, boy, the rest is up to you." Tom figured Ben would have Phil take over tendin' the bar so he could look after the dog. Later, if need be, he would have one of the girls sit with Bart while he helped out downstairs. Rising stiffly to his feet, he rubbed the ache in his lower back. He lowered himself into the chair and settled back to study the book that, according to Mitch, he didn't want to know where it came from.
Sing lowered himself to the floor beside Katlin's wounded protector. "You did good, boy. No one could have asked more from you." He clapped his hands twice then rubbed them together briskly, creating a heated friction between his palms. Holding his palms downward, he ran his hands over the mortally wounded animal, and a warm blue glow flowed from his hands into the dog. "Sleep and heal," he chanted over and over until the healing energy dissipated from his hands.
Chapter Fourteen
"Damn it, Sing, where are you?" Katlin muttered again as she had countless times since she found herself in this mess. She finally had to accept what he'd told her when she first saw him after arriving in the past. There were some things in which he was not permitted to interfere, situations created by the actions and free will of humans. Her current situation certainly fit that description, in spades. True, she was scared to death, but, oddly enough, Katlin didn't blame Sing for her situation. If she hadn't been brought here, she'd never have found Mitch. Despite the quirky sense of humor she'd come to expect from her spirit guide/guardian angel, she remembered the love and compassion he'd showered upon her when he was with her as a child. Katlin knew he cared deeply for her, and she could easily picture him watching over her now, wringing his hands in frustration at his inability to help.
"It's okay," she said aloud, hoping Sing could hear. "I understand ."
"You're on your own, McKinnen," she told herself. "What are you going to do about it?" She was going to do whatever she had to do to stay alive so she could get back to Mitch. She already knew trying to escape from the ropes which bound her to the crude but solid bed frame was futile. She'd been there, done that, and all she had received from her efforts were wrists and ankles which were rubbed raw and bleeding.
After taking careful stock of the room in which she was being held, Katlin suspected she was in one of the temporary sod dwellings favored by some of the homesteaders. Despite the heat outside, it was surprisingly cool inside. The walls and floor consisted of nothing more than hard packed dirt. There was a fireplace used for heat and cooking. Except for the bed, the only other furniture she could see was a large split slab of wood with four legs used for a table and several three-legged stools. The single window was shuttered, allowing only enough light to seep through the slats to see it was still daylight outside. If not for the single oil lamp burning on the table, Katlin suspected the single room would be as dark as a cave.
Someone had taken Katlin's watch, and she had no idea what time it was or how long she'd been unconscious. Considering that her arms were secured above her head, it would have been difficult to twist her wrist around so she could see it anyway. When Rick left her, he was going to pick up his father to go into town with the pretense of expecting there to be a wedding. He'd been gone for some time, maybe an hour or so. The wedding was set for four o'clock, and if she considered the time it took to get from the Westfield ranch to town, maybe she could figure out the approximate time. But damn it, math had never been her strong suit, and her head hurt too much to try to figure it out. Besides, she had no way of knowing how far she was from the Westfield ranch, or what time the Westfields planned to arrive in Abilene. At best, Katlin figured it safe to assume it was still well before four o'clock. Not that the time mattered anyway. Unless someone arrived to release her, she wasn't going anywhere.
Katlin froze and listened intently as she heard movement outside the door. Not daring to hope, she held her breath as the door slowly opened, and Rick's hired gun, Gant, walked into the room and closed the door behind him. Without uttering a single word, his cold dark eyes met hers then slid downward to where Rick had left her breasts exposed. A mockery of a smile twisted his lips as his eyes again rose to meet hers, effectively pinning her to the bed. He leaned back against the door, crossed his legs at the ankles, and proceeded to roll himself a smoke.
As much as Katlin hated Rick Westfield, despite everything he had done so far, he had never evoked the crippling fear within her Gant managed to achieve with a mere glance. It had nothing to do with what Rick had told her about him. While she considered Rick to be a greedy, sexually twisted pervert without a conscience, Katlin sensed something inherently evil glittering in Gant's obsidian eyes. Gant reached back and struck a match against the door behind him. When he raised the match up to the cigarette clutched between his teeth, the flame illuminated his face. Katlin's heart literally stuttered within her chest.
Immediately, her mind flashed back to the vision she'd had while talking with Sarah. She was surrounded by an angry mob holding torches and shouting, "Hang the witch! Hang the witch!" She frantically searched for Matthew's face in the crowd. He wasn't there. And she feared he wouldn't arrive in time to save her. Standing on a hill above them looking down upon the scene was a woman with long black hair, wearing a full-length black cape. The woman in black raised her arms, lightning flashed, and the wind began to roar, carrying the sound of the her laughter into the valley. The true evil which had plagued the village stood on the hill above them. Why couldn't these so-called God-fearing people see that?
Panic-stricken, she again searched the crowd for Matthew's beloved face and found instead the face of evil. The face Katlin somehow knew belonged to the brother of the woman on the hill. Dressed entirely in black, he was standing on a crude makeshift gallows watching and waiting. A torch carrying villager paused beneath the platform, and the flames illuminated the malice glittering in the man's obsidian dark eyes. Gant's face. Gant's eyes.
As Katlin watched him leaning almost causally against the door smoking his cigarette, she knew she had come up against this man in another place, in another time, and she had lost. They say the devil himself is spell-bindingly handsome. Katlin had never given much credence to the myth until now. He had raven black hair, a perfectly groomed beard and mustache, and those chillingly cold black ice eyes set in a ruggedly handsome face totally devoid of emotion. Katlin knew to the depths of her being his face wasn't wearing a mask to disguise his true emotions. The cold went all the way through to the man's soul.
Gant dropped the glowing butt of his cigarette to the floor and snuffed it out with his boot. Reaching down, he released the leather thongs which secured his holsters to this thighs, then removed his gun belt. As he slowly approached her, Katlin's blood ran cold.
Gant reached down with his index finger and traced the mark Mitch had left on her breast. "This really pissed him off, didn't it?" Gant asked in a voice which held a deep, velvet quality. Examining Katlin's features for a reaction, he added as if he'd known exactly what she was thinking. "Oh, yes, I heard every word. Don't think you'll accomplish anything by attempting to make me angry. My ego isn't so sensitive that it responds to insults any more than it
does to false compliments."
"And don't think you will get any more of a response from me than Westfield did," Katlin countered.
Without responding immediately, he started to unbutton his shirt. "That is where you are very wrong, my dear."
"Stay in control, McKinnen. Don't panic. Think. Try another tactic," Katlin scolded herself silently. "Westfield won't appreciate you making use of what he considers his toy before he gets a chance to play with it," Katlin warned.
His shirt hit the floor revealing a muscular chest covered with dark hair that narrowed into a V and ran downward into the waistband of his black jeans. "That is an understatement," was his only response as he removed his boots then his socks.
"Think about what you're doing, Gant. Men like Westfield, who don't have the guts to do their own dirty work, usually pay very well. "re you willing to give that up?"
"I considered that. But the way I figure it, Westfield is an inept fool who's about to go down. I don't plan to stay around long enough to get caught in the crossfire."
"You're right. He is going down. Soon. If you were smart, you'd hightail it out of here now. Put as much distance as possible between you and Abilene before he has the chance to take you down with him."
"Don't worry your pretty little head about it. We'll both be long gone before Rick or anyone else comes looking for you." Katlin felt sick to her stomach. If she had to choose the lesser of two evils, she'd pick Westfield. He, at least, she could rattle. With Westfield she might have a chance of getting out of this.
"You might as well save your breath for when you're screaming with passion. It's going to happen, and there is nothing you can do or say that will stop me," he replied with a soft spoken emphasis which made Katlin cringe inwardly.
"You might be able to rape me, but you're as big a fool as Westfield if you think you can make me enjoy it." Bound as she was, Katlin knew he was right. Unless the Calvary arrived in time to save her. It was going to happen.
""gain, that is where you are wrong. Where Westfield gets off on gaining control by inflicting pain and fear, I get off on something more soul destroying for a woman. Especially if the woman I take against her will is in love with another man." His hands went to his belt buckle and released it, then unfastened the front of his jeans. Hooking his thumbs into his waistband, he peeled his jeans over his hips, down his legs, then stepped out of them and stood over her.
Dear God in heaven. Rick might have said what he did about Gant to frighten her, but he hadn't been exaggerating. Instinctively, Katlin recoiled and began struggling against the ropes binding her wrists.
"As I was saying, I get off on something else all together," he reached down and began stroking himself. "There is such a fine line between love and hate, pleasure and pain, heaven and hell. You see, if man knows what he's doing, he can make a woman forget where one ends and the other begins. He can get a woman so hot she'll do anything for relief. Whether you want it to happen or not, with the right stimulation your body can be forced to respond."
"Like hell," Katlin snapped.
He smiled and sat on the side of the bed. "You're already breathing hard. Fear itself causes involuntary changes in your body. It's already beginning to prepare itself for me. Shall I prove it to you?" Gant slid his hand down her bare stomach into the waistband of her panties until he cupped her between her legs. "You're already getting wet," he taunted as he began to rub against the ultra sensitive bud with his thumb, and Katlin felt her insides contract.
"It's an involuntary reaction, damn you," Katlin gasped. "It doesn't mean I want you."
"You will." He wrapped her hair around his free hand and held her head secure while he leaned forward, his lips barely touching hers. "Don't close your eyes. I want you looking at me, knowing it isn't the man you love who will make you melt and burn. Your lips and your mind might say otherwise, but inside you'll know you liked it. Inside, you'll know you wanted it." His eyes held hers mesmerized, and the soft hypnotic quality of his voice tugged at a responsive cord within her. After years of listening to guided meditation tapes, her mind had been conditioned to slip into the visualizations without conscious effort on her part.
When he kissed her, his lips were firm yet tender, demanding without being punishing, in a kiss calculated to coax a response from her, involuntary or otherwise. Because he'd instructed her not to, Katlin did the exact opposite. She closed her eyes and thought of Mitch. She remembered what it was like to be in his arms, what she'd felt like when he was touching her. Katlin moaned softly, she arched instinctively against the hand moving more insistently between her legs. Gant chuckled with satisfaction and pulled his lips from hers.
Katlin's eyes snapped open to look into nearly black eyes which seared her with a flame of passion burning in their depths. " fire without heat. Leaving Katlin to believe if a moth was unfortunate enough to fly too close to Gant's flame, it would become as fragile as a freeze dried rose, capable of being crushed within the fist of the man holding it captive. She'd done exactly what he wanted her to do. With Mitch in her heart, and in her mind, she had responded to another man's touch. Once started, Katlin didn't know how to pull her body back from sensations tugging at her womb. If she closed her eyes and thought of Mitch, Katlin knew she'd be lost. The hand between her legs grew more insistent. Even as she fought it, her body continued to betray her, and an involuntary gasp of pleasure escaped her parted lips.
"No," Katlin groaned.
"Oh yes," Gant responded. Using her hair as leverage, he tilted her head so she was forced to look at his erection. "You will look into my eyes when I slide into you, filling you as no man will ever fill you again."
Katlin's body stiffened. She couldn't get her breath, and her body began to climb toward the climax he was forcing upon her. "No." "gain her mind resisted what her body craved.
"You can't fight it. You can't fight me. Let it go and cum for me."
"Damn you," she cried out. Just as she reached the crest, ready to fall, he stopped, leaving her gasping for breath and her body screaming for release.
"Tell me you want it. Ask me to take you, and I'll give your body the satisfaction it craves."
"Never," Katlin snapped.
"For someone so smart, you are really very naive," Gant crooned softly as he reached down and picked up a knife. The blade felt alternately searing hot and cold as ice against her hips as with slow deliberation he used the razor sharp blade to cut through her bikini panties on each side. "You have such an incredibly responsive body. If we had more time, I wouldn't take you until I had you begging for it. Unfortunately . . . .
As Gant moved onto the bed between her legs, Katlin closed her eyes and whispered, "I love you, Mitch." If this was going to happen, she wanted to imagine it was with the man she loved.
His hand was so hot Katlin felt as if he'd burned her flesh when he cupped her breast in his hand and squeezed. "I said you will keep your eyes opened, and you will watch," Gant demanded and continued to apply pressure to her breast until she complied. He took his erection in his hand, preparing to guide himself into her body.
The gun shot that rang out sounded like an explosion within the confines of the small room. Gant jerked upward onto his knees, a shocked expression on his face as he turned toward the door. Sarah Westfield pulled the trigger again, the bullet slammed into his chest, the impact forcing him backward off the narrow bed. Gant was dead before he hit the floor.
* * * *
Mitch met up with Ben on the trail several miles from the last homestead on Ben's list. It was the closest one to the west of the Westfield ranch.
"Did you find anything?" Ben asked when Mitch reined in his lathered Appaloosa beside him.
"The first two had been burned out, nothing left to search. The last one looked like someone had made use of it, but there wasn't anything to indicate she'd been there." Mitch removed his hat, wiped the perspiration from his forehead with the back of his sleeve, then raked his fingers through his hair in frustration. "Wh
at about you?"
"Same thing. Both looked like someone had made use of them but no sign of Katlin. Only one left to check out," Ben answered, equally frustrated and wishing he had better news.
"Let's hit it. She has to be there." The words barely left his mouth before he had kicked his heels into his horse's flanks, leaving Ben to catch up. "Please, God, let her be there. Let her be all right," he prayed silently.
* * * *
Katlin's relief over what had just happened, or more to the point, what hadn't happened was so overwhelming all she was capable of at that moment was to lay there with her eyes closed, taking great gulping breaths.
Sarah dropped the still smoking gun in her hands, rushed to Katlin, and dropped to her knees beside the bed. "Oh God, Katlin. Are you all right?" Sarah was forced to whisper, her own breathing ragged. "I'm so sorry. I got here as quickly as I could."
Upon hearing the abject despair in Sarah's voice, Katlin struggled to find the strength to pull herself together. "It's all right, Sarah." Opening her eyes, Katlin turned her head to see tears streaming unchecked down Sarah's anxious face. "Are you all right?"
"After what you've been through, you ask if I'm all right?" Sarah gasped. "Katlin? Did he . . . ?"
"No. The Calvary arrived just in the nick of time," Katlin clenched her jaw to kill the sob in her throat and forced a reassuring smile upon her trembling lips.
"Did Rick?"
"No, he didn't."
Sarah closed her eyes and released the breath she'd been holding. "Thank God," she whispered.
As if the realization of Katlin's state of undress and her bound condition finally hit her, Sarah picked up the knife Gant had dropped on the floor and hastened to make short work of the ropes binding her.
Once she was free, totally unselfconscious of her near nudity, Katlin enfolded Sarah in a fierce hug of gratitude. "I don't know how I'll ever be able to thank you."
"That's what friends are for."
The Bond Unbroken Page 27