Arizona Embrace

by Leigh Greenwood

  That’s why she couldn’t see anything. Her eyes were open, but it was pitch black.

  “I can’t move,” she groaned. “My whole body feels like dried leather.”

  Trinity twitched the blanket off her. Victoria gasped from shock and cold.

  “A few seconds on your feet, and you’ll feel like new.”

  “I’ll never feel like new again,” Victoria said, reaching for the blanket. “I won’t be able to ride for at least a week.”

  “You’re going to be in the saddle inside half an hour if I have to put you there.”

  Trinity bent over, took her under the arms, and lifted her to her feet in one swift, fluid movement. Victoria couldn’t move her legs. She fell against Trinity. She struggled to push away from him, but her arms felt dead. Her whole body felt like it had been carved from wood.

  If anything could have brought her immediately awake, it would have been finding herself in Trinity’s arms, her bosom smashed up against his chest, her cheek against the softness of his shirt. Only two nights ago she had lain awake shivering from the thought of him crushing her to his bare chest. While this wasn’t exactly the way she had envisioned it, it came disconcertingly close.

  “Walk,” Trinity ordered. It became immediately clear that if Victoria didn’t want to be dragged along the ground, she had to move her legs.

  “Slow down, you brute,” she said. She held tightly to him while she tested her legs to see if they would bear some of her weight.

  Holding on to Trinity was like putting her arms around a corral post. Victoria took pleasure in knowing her nearness unsettled him, but she was shocked to realize his touch still had the ability to reduce her willpower to a vapor trace.

  She knew the rigidity of his body and the awkward way he held her were the results of her nearness. Knowing she made him uncomfortable relieved some of her own shame at still being attracted to a man who believed her a murderess.

  She must be crazy! What sane woman would have such feelings for her jailer, even one as handsome as Trinity?

  “Do you enjoy torturing your prisoners?”

  “No woman ever made that complaint before.”

  “I suppose you’ve had a wide experience.”

  “Wide enough.”

  “You probably enjoyed watching them throw themselves at you. I can’t believe I’m like all the rest. I used to think I was different.”

  “You are.”

  “I suppose you’re trying to tell me all the other women prisoners were better riders than I am.”

  “I wasn’t talking about women prisoners. I told you before there haven’t been any.”

  “There must have been. You must have captured dozens of prisoners over the years.”

  “Eighteen. All men.”

  “Who’re you trying to fool? You spent half of yesterday telling me how much you despised women, how they use men every chance they get. Every one of your victims must have been female. Nothing else would appeal to your perverted sense of justice.”

  Trinity released her and stepped back, only by luck did Victoria balance herself on her own legs and keep from falling. She looked up at him, a question in her glance, then wished she hadn’t. The expression in his face confused her. For the first time since he captured her, he seemed human and vulnerable. For a second she actually felt sorry for him.

  “You’re the first woman I’ve attempted to take back,” Trinity said. “If I had it to do over, I wouldn’t do it.”

  “Are you trying to make me believe that a bounty hunter has a conscience?”

  “I’m not a bounty hunter,” Trinity snarled, his lips drawn so tightly away from his teeth they looked like fangs.

  The force of his rage nearly took Victoria’s breath away. She shrank from him, fearing he might hit her. There was also an element of hurt in his look, fleeting, immediately covered up, but unquestionably there.

  Pinpricks of remorse made Victoria hesitate. She had lashed out at him because she hurt. She hadn’t expected to hurt him. He had seemed invulnerable. She didn’t mean to; she didn’t want to.

  She rallied quickly.

  “I suppose you’re going to tell me you do this for free, for the benefit of your fellow man.”

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I did.”

  “Why should I? You didn’t believe me when I told you I didn’t kill my husband.”

  “A jury found you guilty.”

  “Aren’t you being paid to take me back?”

  He was a deputy. He had been offered a deputy’s salary, but he refused. He wouldn’t tell her that. As long as she was determined to believe the worst about him, she could believe what she liked.

  Victoria took Trinity’s silence as an admission of guilt.

  “You’re a professional bounty hunter.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “You’ve done this before. You’ve probably got every camp site between here and Texas picked out and stocked with supplies. You’ve left nothing to chance. It’s not just a job. You do it because you like it.”

  “Whatever you say”

  She could tell he only feigned indifference. She could hear the tension in his voice, feel the fury in his eyes, see the rigidity of his body. She sensed the pain beneath his expression of unconcern. It surprised her, and it also upset her.

  “Why do you do it?” Victoria asked. “Nobody likes a bounty hunter, not even those paying the bounty. You can’t have a home or friends or any place to go. You’re an outcast from society.”

  “I don’t care too much for society.”

  “Just about any kind of job would be easier,” she continued. “You have to travel all the time, sleeping in the cold and rain on the ground, running from people, hiding, doing everything in secret. Worst of all, people are always trying to kill you. Not just outlaws and Indians, but honest, everyday citizens.”

  Trinity just stared at her, his face a meaningless collection of features. Even their perfection lacked force. He seemed to have withdrawn to some place deep inside himself where her words couldn’t penetrate, some place where the hurt couldn’t reach, some place Victoria couldn’t go.

  “You’re right, but not for the reason you think.”

  Victoria felt rewarded to have goaded him into response, but she was reproached by the hollowness of his voice.

  “Your ‘honest, everyday citizens’ are nothing but lazy, spineless, cowardly people hiding in their safe towns, complaining to their sheriff when someone steals their money or complaining to the government when they fail at one venture after another.

  “How many of them had the courage to face down any one of the gunmen I’ve brought in? None! How many of the men who sat in judgment of you had the courage to go after you when your uncle broke you out of jail? None! They all depend on me or someone like me to do the work they are too cowardly, inept, or just plain stupid to do for themselves. They look down on me because otherwise they wouldn’t have the guts to look each other in the eye.”

  Victoria felt appalled by the loneliness of his life. His isolation from humanity and his hunger for a caring relationship struck her. She longed to tell him to disregard the past, but she couldn’t let him go on thinking he had a right to act as judge and juror for the human race.

  “You’re almost as bad as the criminals you bring in,” Victoria said. “You don’t commit murder, but you rob men of their courage and their self-respect.”

  “They’ve done that all ready. That’s why they need me.”

  “For what? To protect them from me?”

  “You were convicted of murder.”

  “And you were convicted of being a blight on society. What gives you the right to decide which sentence shall be carried out and which shall be withheld?”

  “You were convicted in a court of law.”

  “Are you saying criminal injustice is worse than social injustice?”

  “You’re twisting my words.”

  “And you’re twisting principles. You’re protec
ting people from me. Who’s going to protect them from you?”

  “Nobody needs protection from me.”

  “I do.”

  “You wouldn’t if you’d do what I ask.”

  “Wonderful. You’ll treat me like an ordinary person if I don’t do anything to prevent you from carrying me back to be hanged.”

  “I always knew a woman could twist the truth until a man couldn’t make head or tail of it, but I’ve never known anyone who could do it as well as you. It all comes down to you’re a felon and I’m not. That’s the end of it. If you want any breakfast, you’d better eat it now. Otherwise you’re going to be mighty hungry by nightfall. You’ve got ten minutes.”

  Victoria bristled. He had dismissed her like a fly. He made no attempt to defend himself. He seemingly put it out of his mind. That made her furious. But getting furious wouldn’t help her get ready in ten minutes.

  “I can’t be ready that soon. Nobody can dress, wash and eat in that space of time.”

  “Then don’t try. If you feel the call of nature, you can use that rock.”

  “I need more privacy.”

  “Suit yourself, but you’ve only got eight minutes now.”

  “You’re a savage!”

  “I suppose it seems like that to you, but I’m interested in just two things, staying alive and delivering you to the sheriff in Bandera. I’ll do what I must to get it done.”

  Trinity knelt and took a piece of bacon out of a small pan. He placed it on some bread and handed it to Victoria. “Here, this is the last of the bread. At least the coffee’s hot.”

  Victoria ignored the food. “I’m going to change and clean up.”

  “You’ve got seven minutes. I’ll get the horses.”

  “I won’t be ready by the time you’ve saddled up.”

  But Victoria spoke to empty air. Trinity had gone.

  Mumbling very unladylike words under her breath, Victoria picked out a change of clothes. She looked about for a place to change but could find no place more suitable than Trinity’s rock. She was tempted to use any place except that rock, but her common sense told her it made no sense to fight Trinity when he was right. She had more than enough to confront when he was completely off base.

  Victoria hadn’t emerged from behind the rock when Trinity returned with the horses.

  “Time to go,” he called.

  “I’m not ready yet.”

  “If you don’t come out in thirty seconds, I’m coming after you.”

  She heard the fire hiss. He must have poured the coffee on the fire. She hadn’t had anything to eat or drink. Did he mean to starve her? She finished dressing, grabbed up yesterday’s clothes, and emerged from behind the rock.

  “I hope that wasn’t the coffee you poured on the fire.”

  “You can’t drink coffee riding a horse. You’ll have enough trouble eating.”

  Trinity rolled up her blanket. He took her clothes, threw them into the blanket, and rolled it up. Victoria knew she’d never be able to wear them again.

  “You’ll ruin my clothes if you ball them up like that.”

  “Next time make sure you get dressed in time to do it yourself,” Trinity said, not pausing. He tied the blanket on the packhorse. “Do you want me to give you a leg up, or can you mount by yourself?”

  “I’ve barely gotten my clothes on. I haven’t brushed my teeth or washed my face.”

  “I won’t tell anybody.”

  Victoria would have dearly loved to scratch the grin off his face. But even though she knew he richly deserved it, she felt guilty about the swollen red lines which crisscrossed his cheek. She’d never done anything like that before, and she couldn’t get used to it. She was continually of two battling minds when it came to this exasperating man.

  “I’m starved.”

  “You can eat while you ride.”

  Trinity lifted her into the saddle with one swing. Even though she would rather die than admit it to him, Victoria liked the feel of his powerful arms around her, his capable hands on her body. It reminded her of his arms around her that day on the trail when Buc found them. She’d dreamed about that twice already. In her dreams, he didn’t stop with his hands on her waist. She found herself wishing Trinity would behave like he did in her dream.

  For God’s sake, woman, he’s your jailer! How can you feel that way about him?

  She didn’t know, but she did.

  “Aren’t you afraid I’ll try to escape if you don’t tie my hands?”

  “No. I’m tying your feet.”

  Victoria tried to kick at him and lift her feet out of the way at the same time. But it was too late. He already had a rope around one ankle. He held the other in an iron-like grip.

  “Do you enjoy forcing females to suffer indignities?” she demanded, unable to repress her resentment.

  “I don’t know. I never had a female in custody before. Am I forcing you to accept indignities?”

  “How can you ask such a question? You steal me away from my home, bind me hand and foot, haul me about like a bag of pecans, force me to go without a proper change of clothes, refuse to allow me to wash or brush my teeth, force me to sleep in the open—”

  “Would you prefer a cave?”

  “—and then throw me into the saddle before I’ve had a swallow of coffee or a mouthful of food.”

  “I warned you we were short of time,” Trinity said.

  “There’s no point in talking to you. You have no feelings, not for yourself or anybody else.”

  “Not in the least,” Trinity replied with cheerful sarcasm. “I like being in the saddle all day and sleeping on rocks at night and eating over a campfire. I make myself go out on the trail at least once a year so I won’t become too comfortable living at my ranch.”

  “You own a ranch?” Victoria asked, jolted out of her train of thought. “Bounty hunting must pay better than I drought.”

  Trinity jerked the rope around her ankle so tightly she winced in pain. He loosened it again, but she promised herself to think before she spoke next time. He looked like he wanted to break her neck and throw her body into a ravine.

  “I paid for that ranch with money I earned working small claims up and down mountains of Colorado. It took me more than ten years. It doesn’t owe one cent to bounty hunting.”

  “I’ll believe that when you believe I had nothing to do with Jeb’s murder,” Victoria said, glad to find a blade she could twist in his guts.

  “Let’s get started,” Trinity said abruptly. “It’ll soon be daylight.”

  Victoria swayed in the saddle. She had drifted in and out of consciousness all afternoon. Trinity had driven her unmercifully in his determination to get beyond the reach of her uncle. She would have traded her soul for just five minutes out of the saddle, but he ignored her pleas. Every time she tried to bring her horse to a halt, he would give it a cut on the rump with his reins. Now, having given up, she sagged in the saddle, not caring where they were or how far they had to go. She was glad he had tied her feet otherwise she would surely have fallen out of the saddle.

  He had given her water as often as she had asked. For that she was profoundly thankful, even though she had to drink from a canteen and the water had grown warm and stale-tasting as the day wore on. He had also given her some jerky to chew on as she rode. She didn’t think she could ever be thankful for that. She pitied anybody who had to live on it for weeks at a time.

  Her twisted ankle no longer hurt, but stabbing pains radiated from her seat. Mercifully, her body had become numb to the pain hours ago, or she would surely have passed out. Victoria had always considered herself strong enough to withstand as much physical hardship as any man, but in the future, if she had any future, she would have much greater respect for anyone who could stay in the saddle for two days straight and still ride in comfort.

  “When are we going to stop?” She didn’t have to open her eyes to know the sun had gone down. She could feel the air begin to cool.

  “Anothe
r couple of hours ought to be enough.”

  “It was enough twelve hours ago,” she mumbled. “I don’t see how you can do it.”

  “You get used to it.”

  “I don’t think I could. I never really understood what Perez and the men went through on a roundup.”

  “You don’t know anything about rounding up cows until you’ve had to flush ornery mossy backs out of the Texas brush,” Trinity said. “Riding through hell would be easier.”

  “I thought you said you worked in the mine fields.”

  “I did, but I grew up in south Texas between the Nueces and the Rio Grande. I helped my daddy chase longhorns every day.”

  Victoria’s mind felt like it was full of cotton. “I don’t understand. I thought you said you paid for your ranch by mining. Did you inherit it?”

  She was too tired to see the dark rage which flashed in his eyes.

  “I grew up on other people’s ranches until my daddy headed to Colorado and struck it rich. Well, not rich, but he found enough gold to buy his own spread. I couldn’t figure why he would head back to Texas and ranching, not after all the times he swore he hated it. But I guess the day comes when every man wants to go home.”

  “Did you ever want to head back home?”

  “I had a lot of reasons not to go back.”

  “Probably a woman,” Victoria mumbled, hardly conscious of what she said.

  “What makes you say that?”

  Even through the waves of fatigue which threatened to engulf her, Victoria could feel Trinity tense up.

  “Why else would you hate women so?” Victoria said. “I figure you ran into several bad ones. If you can’t go back home, one of them must have been there.”

  “That’s rather good thinking.”

  “It’s common sense. A man is most vulnerable to three women: his mother, his first love, and his wife. You said you weren’t married, and in spite of all the lies you’ve told, I believe you. No woman would stay with a man as unfeeling and selfish as you. Your mother died when you were young, maybe even at your birth. There’s no softness in you, none of the gentleness which would come from the woman who gave you birth and who would forgive you everything.

  “A man never forgets the first woman he falls in love with no matter how much he might love his wife. Especially if she hurt him. He never forgives her either. How am I doing so far?”