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Outlaw’s Bride

Page 25

by Johnston, Joan


  Ethan stared off into the distance. “I don’t know. I’ve never trusted anyone the way I trusted Boyd. I ran into him after I left the line shack where Dora fixed me up. He was on his way home with his pa. Clete was dead drunk, so Boyd and I were able to talk without being bothered.

  “He promised to watch after my family for me,” Ethan said in a hoarse voice. “He told me not to worry, that he wouldn’t let my parents get lonely. He would be their son until I came home.”

  Ethan swallowed over the thickness in his throat. “All that time, he knew who was really guilty. When we hugged each other good-bye, there were tears in his eyes.… I thought they were for me.”

  A band tightened around Patch’s chest, making it hard to breathe. Monstrous. There was no other word for Boyd’s actions. Patch became convinced that, considering the past, it was likely Boyd’s race to Trahern’s ranch had nothing to do with helping Ethan.

  But if not, why had Boyd been in such a hurry to go there?

  Jefferson Trahern fisted his hand around the fifty-dollar gold certificates Calloway had shoved into his palm. Nothing he could say had swayed the bounty hunter. Calloway had quit. Trahern felt a rage born of frustration. Once again, his efforts to kill Ethan Hawk had been thwarted.

  “Father?”

  Trahern turned away from the front window to face his daughter. Seeing her every day over the past seventeen years had fanned the flames of his ire, so the fire had never died. Being angry was the only way he could survive the agony of watching his child grow up, but never grow older. “What is it Merielle?”

  “Did your friend leave?”

  “Yes, he’s gone.”

  “Is he coming back?”

  “No. He wasn’t somebody you should know, Merielle.”

  “I liked him.”

  Trahern didn’t argue with his daughter. He had learned from experience that he always lost. She saw only the good. The bad had ceased to exist for her since that awful night. She had been the soul of amiability—until the last couple of weeks.

  Lately, she had been unusually contrary. And she had headaches all the time. He worried that something might be wrong, that she might be getting ill. But he avoided seeking out a doctor because that would be giving his fears substance.

  “There’s someone coming, Father. Maybe your friend decided to come back after all.”

  Trahern wasn’t expecting anyone. The ranch was virtually abandoned. Frank had taken every cowhand who could fork a horse out to round up and brand the spring calves. Maria had gone along with her husband to manage the chuck wagon.

  Trahern leaned over to look past the draped curtain in the parlor to the front yard. Sure enough, a rider was approaching. It wasn’t Calloway; it was Boyd Stuckey. Trahern headed to the front door to greet his visitor. “Stay here, Merielle.”

  Over the years, Trahern had spent a great deal of his fortune on private detectives and bounty hunters to track Ethan Hawk down, on lawyers and judges to convict him, and most recently, on gunfighters to shoot him down. He had sold off his assets one at a time to finance his campaign against the man who had murdered his son and raped his daughter.

  He didn’t like or trust Stuckey, but over the years he had found it advantageous to do business with him. He wondered what had brought Boyd to the Tumbling Tin such a hurry.

  Trahern opened the front door before Boyd knocked. “What are you doing here? I thought we’d finished our business together.”

  “I have some news that might be of interest to you … and Merielle.”

  Trahern might not have invited Boyd inside, except anything that concerned Merielle had special significance. He hadn’t missed the fact that Boyd’s horse had been ridden hard and was lathered with sweat. “Come on in.”

  Trahern knew Merielle was in the parlor, but it was the most logical place to take Boyd. As he stepped over the threshold he said, “Merielle, Boyd has—”

  He didn’t get any more out before his daughter gasped. “You!” She stared at Boyd across the width of the parlor, her eyes wide. Then she shut her eyes tight and put a hand to her head. “Father?”

  Trahern stood frozen with fear for his daughter. “Merielle? Are you all right?”

  “My head hurts, Father.”

  “I have some news that might make her feel better,” Boyd said as he stepped farther into the room. “Chester Felber was shot today.”

  Merielle’s eyes opened wide in fright. “Chester?”

  Trahern stood at the apex of a tense triangle that also included his daughter and Boyd. “I think you’d better leave now. You’re upsetting my daughter.”

  “You’ll want to hear what I have to say,” Boyd countered.

  “Then get it said and get out!”

  “Chester Felber is the man who raped Merielle!”

  “What?” Trahern stood stunned, his jaw agape.

  Boyd took advantage of Trahern’s inaction to approach Merielle, circling like a wolf that knows its prey is crippled and helpless. He stopped behind her, his mouth close to her ear. His voice was no more than a whisper, certainly not loud enough for Trahern to hear. “It was Chester, wasn’t it, Merielle? You remember, don’t you, how it was? You screamed and screamed. Chester hit you again and again to stop those horrible screams. It was Chester who raped you.”

  Merielle shook her head no.

  “Leave her alone!” Trahern snapped.

  But Boyd’s sudden appearance, his command to remember, had already sent Merielle’s thoughts spinning backward in time. She tried to shut everything out, but the memories kept flooding in, until there was no holding them back.

  And she remembered.

  She had come home right after school and told her father she was going to her room to rest before the party. Then she had climbed down the tree outside her window and started for the cave where she was supposed to meet Frank. They sky had been so blue! The wind was blowing in the grass so it almost sang. She had never felt so happy!

  She had been nearly to the cave when she saw Boyd coming toward her.

  “I came to wish you a happy birthday, since I wasn’t invited to the party,” Boyd said.

  “Thanks, Boyd.”

  “You going to meet Frank?”

  She smiled shyly. “He has a present for me.”

  “I’ve got one, too,” Boyd said.

  Since he didn’t have anything in his hands she asked, “Where is it?”

  He pointed to his lips. “Right here.”

  Merielle laughed. “Right where?”

  “Here.”

  He grabbed her before she realized what he was going to do and kissed her right on the mouth.

  She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand in disgust. “Boyd Stuckey, you snake! You skulking stinkworm! How dare you kiss me!”

  She was so busy being outraged that she didn’t notice the expression slowly changing on Boyd’s face. When she finally looked at him again, she was frightened at what she saw. His features were contorted, and his face had turned red.

  “So I’m not good enough for you, huh! Frank, the dirt farmer’s son, is good enough. But not Boyd, the drunk’s kid. Hoity-toity, high and mighty Merielle Trahern! You’re no better than a whore in the saloon, spreading your legs for Frank whenever he asks.”

  “Stop it, Boyd!” She held her hands to her ears, appalled that Boyd could say such awful things to her face. “I won’t listen!”

  He grabbed her hands to pull them from her ears. “You’ll listen to me, Merielle Trahern. I’m as good as Frank Meade. Better. I’m smarter, and I’m going to be somebody someday, just you watch and see. Frank will never be anything.”

  “You’re not even good enough to lick Frank’s boots,” Merielle retorted.

  Boyd shoved her, a little push to shut her up, but she lost her balance and fell. That made her even madder, because she had on the skirt she planned to wear to her party, and now it was dirty. She shouted, “You’re nothing compared to Frank, Boyd! Just a nasty old—”

&nb
sp; He straddled her and held her hands down on either side of her head, taunting her that there was enough of him to hold her down. She kicked and bucked under him, but he was too strong for her. She wasn’t sure when she realized that his hands had suddenly tightened on her wrists. He switched both wrists to one hand and began rubbing his body against hers as she bucked against him.

  “Stop it, Boyd!” she screamed.

  He hit her in the mouth with his fist. While she was still stunned, he pulled her skirt up and ripped her drawers off. She twisted under him, terrified, frantic. “Nobody will want to be your friend anymore when I tell them about this. Just you wait until I tell Frank and Ethan—”

  She felt a sharp, tearing pain, excruciating pain.

  She screamed. A long, loud wail of horror and indignation, of pain and fear.

  Finally, the pain stopped. She felt something dripping down her thigh. She was afraid to touch herself to find out what it was.

  “You say a word about this to anyone, and I’ll kill you,” Boyd whispered in her ear. “Hell, you say a word about this, and I’ll kill Frank! Before I do, I’ll tell him that you liked it, that you asked me to do it to you!”

  Suddenly her hands were free. She lashed out and felt her nails strike flesh. She curved her fingers into claws and dug deep. When she looked, it wasn’t Boyd’s face before her, it was Chester’s.

  She was confused. She wanted to apologize to Chester. But when she tried to speak, no words would come out.

  She could see everything that was happening around her, but she couldn’t seem to form the words she wanted to say. She watched Horace Felber’s arrival, paralyzed by fear. What if Boyd did what he had threatened? Frank would hate her if he thought she had wanted Boyd to put himself inside her. But if she accused Boyd of rape, he would kill her! He would kill Frank!

  She tried to tell Horace Felber that she didn’t know who had hurt her. Her mouth moved, but the sound was stuck in her throat.

  She didn’t understand why they left her all alone. She tried to stand, but her knees kept buckling. Dusk fell. And Frank came. She was terrified again. She tried to tell him she hadn’t wanted Boyd to do it.

  He pleaded with her to speak to him. Her eyes were open, but she saw everything through a mist of what she realized must be tears. She answered him, but he acted like she hadn’t. Finally, she realized that the words were only sounding in her head. Frank couldn’t hear them. She closed her eyes to shut out the pleading, terrified look in his.

  She heard Ethan come and try to send Frank away. In her head she heard the words form, begging Frank to stay. Then Dorne was there. She could hear him shouting at Frank. She didn’t want her brother to see her like this and squeezed her eyes closed as though to hide her shame in darkness.

  She began trembling violently when Dorne attacked Frank, and jerked when she heard shots fired. She chanced a look from beneath lowered lashes and saw Dorne lying on the ground beside her with blood spurting from his leg. She closed her eyes again, shutting out the horror. Shutting out everything.

  Much later, she heard her father’s voice, but she couldn’t face him. It was too horrible. It was too awful. She could never tell him what had happened.

  That was the last thing she remembered. How long ago had that been? Traces of the past few weeks flashed before her eyes.

  “You’re a beautiful young woman.”

  “Ethan Hawk is an old friend of yours.”

  “Do you remember kissing me, Merielle?”

  “I won’t let Father keep us apart, Frank!”

  Merielle opened her eyes and looked around her. She was in the parlor of her home. Her father—God, he was so old! She put her hands to her face and felt the changes in her features. She looked down at her body. Her breasts had grown! And she had hips! I’m all grown up!

  “Chester did it,” Boyd repeated like a litany. “Don’t you remember? Chester did it!”

  “No!” Merielle put her hands to her ears to stop Boyd’s voice. “Stop! Stop!”

  “Leave her alone,” Trahern barked again. “Get out, Boyd. I think you’ve said enough.”

  “It wasn’t Chester!” Merielle cried. She turned to face Boyd, then backed away toward her father. She pointed her finger at Boyd. “It was you, Boyd! You raped me!”

  Both men were stunned at her outburst.

  “She’s talking crazy,” Boyd bluffed.

  “Don’t believe him, Father.” Merielle turned to face her father. She looked up into his searching eyes. “I remember everything. Boyd raped me. Chester came along and tried to stop him.”

  “Boyd wasn’t there when we found you, Ethan was.”

  Merielle grabbed a fistful of her father’s shirt. “Ethan came later! He didn’t do it, Father. It was Boyd!”

  Trahern was still having trouble accepting the idea that Merielle had her memory back. It was horrifying to think he had sent the wrong man to prison and welcomed a viper into his home. Trahern lunged for the rifle that was mounted over the mantel, but he didn’t get two steps before Boyd shot him in the back.

  “Father!” Merielle raced to where her father had fallen on the carpeted floor. He was bleeding from a terrible wound between his shoulder blades. “You’ve killed him!” she cried.

  “Good riddance!” Boyd said. “Now I’m going to take care of you!”

  When Boyd aimed the gun at her, Merielle did the only thing she could think of to save herself.

  “Have you seen my friend, Patch? We went on a picnic and it was lots of fun. I want her to come play with me again.”

  Boyd grinned. “Crazy as a coot again, huh?” He walked over and knelt beside her, looking into her eyes.

  Merielle didn’t move. Look hard, Boyd. See what I want you to see. “What happened to Father?” she whimpered.

  “Ethan shot your father. Remember that. Ethan shot your father.”

  “Ethan shot my father,” Merielle repeated obediently. I know exactly who killed my father. And you’re going to hang for it!

  “Good girl. I’ll be leaving you now, Merielle. I’ve got to get to the sheriff with the tragic news. Ethan Hawk just made good on his threat to kill Jefferson Trahern. He’s finally gone too far. A lynch party ought to go after him. Yeah. That sounds good. A lynch party.”

  You fiend! “Can I come to the party?” Merielle said.

  Boyd laughed. “Not this one.” He stopped at the door and turned back to her. His eyes narrowed until his face looked cruel. “By the way, Merielle, next time you start remembering the wrong thing, I will kill you. Remember that.”

  Merielle remained frozen where she was until she heard Boyd’s horse gallop away. She looked down at the blood pooling around her father and knew there was nothing she could do to help him. If she hurried, there might still be time to save Ethan Hawk.

  She wanted to fly to Frank. She needed to feel his arms around her. She needed to know whether he still wanted her after everything that had happened. But she had no idea where he was. He could be anywhere on Tumbling Trange. If she stopped to search for Frank, Ethan might end up getting hanged.

  Merielle raced upstairs and put on a split riding skirt and boots. As she saddled a horse for herself in the barn, Merielle tried to think what would be best to do. It probably wasn’t a good idea to go to the sheriff by herself. Boyd would convince everyone she was deranged. But there was someone who would believe her. Someone who would listen to what she had to say and warn Ethan.

  Merielle left the Tumbling Tand rode straight for Patch Kendrick at the Double Diamond.

  Boyd knew he had to move fast. He was lucky the hands were all gone on the roundup. Apparently, no one had heard the shot that killed Trahern. He wasn’t sure he had done the right thing leaving Merielle alive, but it was easier to accuse Ethan of murder if Trahern was the only victim. He felt certain that he could intervene in time if Merielle did begin to regain her memory, and that he could get her committed to some asylum where she would never be heard from again.

  He was ru
nning on adrenaline. How the hell had it come to this? Killing Trahern had never been part of his plan. But if he didn’t want to lose everything he had gained over the past seventeen years, he had to cover his tracks, and fast. That meant accusing Ethan of the crime and making sure he died before anyone had time to investigate Trahern’s death. Luckily, no one was likely to believe Ethan’s protestations of innocence.

  A lynch party would solve Boyd’s problem nicely.

  Before he incited a riot, he had a little business that needed taking care of. He rode down the back alleys into town and dismounted behind the Oakville Mercantile. He looked around to make sure he wasn’t being observed before he stepped inside. The change in light blinded him momentarily, but he could feel the room was empty. He stood where he was and inhaled deeply.

  He had always liked the way the storeroom smelled. Vinegar. That was pickles. Leather. That was a new saddle. Wool. That was bolts of fabric. Wood. That was new-made barrels and casks and crates filled with everything and anything. This room smelled of all the things he had craved as a child and never had. He had liked coming here to get his money from Horace Felber. He had insisted on it.

  “What are you doing here?”

  He realized Mrs. Felber must have heard him come in. “I need to speak with you. And with Horace.”

  “Horace isn’t here. You can talk to me.”

  “I know you’ve already told some people what Chester did. I just came to make sure you don’t flap your jaws about other things.”

  “Like what a poor excuse for a human being you are?” Mrs. Felber taunted.

  Boyd would have hit her if he had been closer. Fortunately, several barrels blocked his way, and by the time he could get past them, he had regained his temper.

  “It might interest you to know Jefferson Trahern is dead.”

  “Why should that make any difference to me?”

  “Because I’m the big man in Oak County now. Everything Jefferson Trahern controlled will fall to me. For instance, I’ll own the sheriff.”

  Mrs. Felber gasped.

  “I see you’re beginning to get the picture. In case it isn’t crystal clear yet, if you or Horace say one word to Careless Lachlan about blackmail, I’ll have Horace arrested as an accomplice to the rape of Merielle Trahern. And I’ll make sure he goes to prison for a long, long time.”

 

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