by Jenna Kernan
George held Boon’s gaze. Boon didn’t look away as the others always did. Hammer didn’t like that kind of challenge, so the outlaw drew his gun and aimed his weapon at the young man’s middle.
Boon held his easy stance, giving no indication he was frightened. George laughed.
“I think I’ll keep your pistol for a while, Boon. You understand.”
Boon nodded. The man was either the coolest customer Laurie had ever seen or just plain crazy.
The young outlaw turned back to his escorts and motioned with his fingers. The guard who’d accompanied him into the camp made a face, glanced at their leader and then handed over a Winchester repeater. Laurie recognized it, for it was similar to the model her father had given her for her tenth birthday, back when they were best friends instead of strangers.
Boon offered the repeater, butt first, to Hammer.
“Took it off a cowpoke who tried to stop me taking one of their beeves.”
Hammer nodded, an absent smile returning to his face. He accepted the offering, spun and aimed at the men standing by the fire, shooting one round after another. The dust at their feet flew up as the men dove behind the ring of logs.
“Seems to fire a little low,” said Hammer conversationally to Boon.
“Every weapon takes getting used to,” he answered.
Hammer nodded, using the lever to expel the final empty round, and then relaxed his arm so that the weapon now hung at his side.
The outlaws dusted off their trousers and chaps as Hammer turned toward the dilapidated house. Laurie saw her opportunity, bolted to her feet and ran toward the horse Boon had vacated. She leaped and Boon caught her in midair, spinning her around as he captured her in his strong arms. He brought her back to the ground, keeping hold of her, pressing her back against his chest so she faced the others.
He held her as she struggled, his body hard and his grip unbreakable.
George Hammer stalked back to Laurie, opened his hand and slapped her across the face. The sting of the slap made her eyes water, but the damage could have been much worse had her captor not pulled her away from the direction of the blow the instant the outlaw struck.
Laurie blinked in shock, waiting for the second blow, but George Hammer seemed oblivious to what had just happened.
He narrowed his eyes on Boon and raised his voice. “Least one of my men ain’t too drunk or too stupid to make himself useful.” He whirled and kicked at the closest man, but he dodged, scrambling backward over the log.
“She gets away and I kill someone.” He stalked toward the house.
Laurie turned her head to look back at her captor. His face was cold and grim, his jaw muscles bulged.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“Shut up,” he growled then grabbed her elbow and dragged her back to the logs, pressing her into place none too gently. “Don’t move.”
He left her to return to his horse and released the girth before swinging the saddle free and setting it on the rail beside the others. Then he rubbed the gelding down with a hank of dried grass, before setting him loose in the paddock.
One of the men sat too close to Laurie. She inched away. His breath stank of rotting teeth as he lifted a lock of her hair and rubbed it between his dirty fingers. She tried to pull back, but he jerked the hank of hair. When she cried out he laughed.
Laurie glanced to Boon and noted his eyes shift, but he made no move to help her. So she faced the man herself.
“Are you trying to get shot? Hammer said no one is to touch me.”
He stopped laughing, narrowing his eyes on her. Laurie held her breath. Their leader had not exactly told his men not to touch her. She waited to see what he’d do.
He took another swallow of whiskey and then rose to his feet, making a show of adjusting himself before joining the others. The men now sat on one side of the fire and she on the other, predators facing their captured prey.
She had never felt more alone in her life. The fear choked her and she grew dizzy from the worry. She knew what would come next and the dread made her nauseous.
She sat still and watchful as the men passed the whiskey and got louder and meaner by the minute.
The outlaws ate, scraping their beans and bacon off tin plates with day-old biscuits. But no one fed her. Laurie’s stomach growled as she watched them, hoping for a chance to run again into the night.
At last George Hammer reemerged from the hovel of a house with Cal.
“So, who’s first, boys?”
Laurie swallowed back the bile rising in her stomach. The time had come. She glanced frantically about for somewhere to run.
But the men weren’t looking at her, they were eyeing each other, sizing up the competition.
She rose, but Cal shoved her to the ground. “You’re not going anywhere.”
Laurie sank in the dust, leaning back against the log, and watched the men. Some hung back, remaining in their places. Others stood casually, as if just preparing to take a stroll.
Boon stepped into the firelight, the first to stake a claim.
“Me,” he said, lowering his chin in a challenge.
The others glanced from one to the next, but no one stepped forward. Laurie began to tremble, her eyes darting from one to another, searching desperately for escape and finding none.
Larson finally moved from the group. He was older, bigger and outweighed the younger man by fifty pounds. But he was a coward inside; Laurie knew it from the exchange she’d seen with Hammer. Cowards didn’t fight unless they were certain they could win. Cowards made the best bullies and suddenly she could not draw breath. What if it were Larson? She’d rather die, but Hammer had not given her that option.
He meant to have his pound of flesh.
She knew Larson was fully capable of breaking a man’s jaw with one punch and she wondered why Boon looked so lackadaisical. The others moved to form a ring, grinning and shouting, perhaps hoping that the fight would take out one or both of them, leaving an open field. Cal rose to gain a better vantage point, leaving her unattended, just outside the ring of cheering men.
Larson lifted his fists. “Still time to back down.”
Boon shook his head.
Laurie’s stomach tightened. Help was not coming. She needed to do for herself or die in the attempt. She tried to think what a Ranger would do and wondered if she might sneak away in the melee. But at that moment, George Hammer sat beside her, drawing his gun and then crossing his arms so the pistol pointed casually at her.
“You just sit back down now and watch the show. You’ll be the show soon enough. I hope it’s Larson. He’s big and mean as a bull. Like him to be your first. But you’ll take them all, some more than once. By the time the sun’s up, you’ll be begging me for this bullet.” He lifted the barrel of his gun. “My, your daddy will be grieved.”
His smile was a bitter combination of warm satisfaction and icy vengeance. Laurie struggled not to vomit as terror gripped her belly.
The men circled each other. She could not draw her eyes from them, one slender, muscular and quick, one slow, beefy and enormous. Who would be the first to rape her?
Chapter Two
Laurie tried to draw up her knees to her chest, but her corset and bustle prevented her, so she inclined to the side, legs tucked under her skirt with one elbow resting on the log behind her as she watched. Time seemed to slow as Larson swung a bone-crushing fist at Boon’s head and missed. Boon, smaller and faster, ducked, then landed a blow to Larson’s ribs before spinning away as the older man bellowed. Another swing and another miss. This time Boon used his elbow to strike the back of Larson’s head.
Both men were dirty fighters, but Boon was faster and stayed out of the man’s reach. If Larson got his hands on him, Laurie felt certain Boon would be finished. The bigger man made a grab for his opponent and Boon used the heel of his hand against his rival’s nose. The crunch made Laurie gag. His broken nose gushed blood down his indigo denim shirt and greasy brown vest. A mom
ent later, Larson’s left eye swelled shut and the big man began to stagger. He drew his gun. The men ceased cheering and dived for cover at the exact moment Boon lunged at Larson’s legs, using his body like a rolling barrel to take the man down.
Laurie didn’t know when it happened but she found herself rooting for Boon, clearly the underdog. What was the matter with her? She should hope they all killed each other and left her in peace.
Boon sprang to his feet and used his boot heel to crush Larson’s shooting hand, still clutching the pistol. The downed man howled like a feral animal as his fingers crunched. Boon retrieved the gun from the ground.
He aimed it at Larson. The man stopped screaming and cradled his mangled hand to his chest. Boon cocked the trigger.
The clearing now fell so silent, Laurie could hear the burning logs crackle and pop in the fire.
George Hammer rose and stepped forward. The men parted as he approached. He glanced coldly at Larson, lying like a defeated gladiator in the ring. Laurie recalled this was his pick and shivered. Hammer turned his head and narrowed his eyes on Boon. The younger outlaw was so still, he seemed carved of marble, but he still aimed the gun at Larson’s big ugly bleeding nose.
Boon did not look to their leader, but seemed to be waiting for something.
“Finish him,” growled Hammer.
There was no hesitation. Boon squeezed the trigger. The shot exploded as Laurie screamed. Larson twitched as the bullet passed through his forehead and then he went still, his feet lolling in opposite directions as his injured hand slipped to the ground.
Her cry and the pistol shot rang in her ears as her mind tried to reconcile such savagery.
Hammer clapped Boon on the shoulder. Boon lowered Larson’s smoking pistol.
“Glad to have you back, Boon.” He turned toward the men. “Larson pulled his pistols. If Boon hadn’t shot him, I woulda.”
Boon slid Larson’s gun behind the buckle of his belt. “Who’s next?”
The men shifted restlessly. Larson was the biggest among them and Boon had taken him down without suffering a scratch. The others were right to take his guns, but even without them, he’d bested their top man.
Laurie glanced about the rough-looking men. They eyed her with lust, but none stepped out to face Boon. Laurie’s stomach rolled as she realized they didn’t have to. Boon had not won her. He’d just won her first. If they were patient they’d still have their turn. No need to get shot over a woman.
Hammer wrapped an arm about Boon’s shoulder. “He’s one of us, boys.”
Was he? Laurie eyed the young man. Despite the dust and stubble there was something about him that was different than the others, but perhaps this was only her mind grasping for any slim thread of hope. Then she remembered the slap and how Boon had deflected it, protecting her from harm. She watched Boon, trying to see inside his soul.
Hammer went on, as if presenting him to a family gathering, the prodigal son, returning to the flock of thieves.
“I said so the first time I laid eyes on you. Bad Boon, one of us again. Welcome home, son.”
The men nodded their approval, accepting the will of their leader, all except Larson, of course. Laurie ventured a glance at the murdered man and was immediately sorry as her stomach heaved.
“Thanks.” Boon’s eyes narrowed and swept the gang, pausing to meet each man’s cold stare. “Good to be back.”
Hammer slapped him on the shoulder. “She’s all yours. Have at her.”
Boon didn’t move.
“Well?” said Hammer.
“Not in front of them.” He pointed at the others.
Hammer scowled. “What? You too shy to let them see your pecker?”
Boon said nothing.
“Maybe I’ll just give her to Cal.”
“I won.”
Hammer glared. Boon didn’t blink. Laurie found she suddenly couldn’t breathe. Their leader might just as soon shoot the newest member of his group as back down. The men stood watchful, waiting for the drama to play out.
Hammer broke into a grin and then gave a laugh. “All right then, boy. Drag her off in the dark and give her a poke, but don’t take too long, else I’ll send the boys for their turn.”
Boon came for her then, his gaze cold and dead, walking fast as if this were some burden he did not savor. She made a poor attempt at evasion and he snatched her up, dragging her to her feet as the others laughed and jeered.
She expected to see lust in his eyes, but instead he captured her gaze with one laced with what looked like regret. Laurie felt unreasonable hope welling again. What was wrong with her? He was an outlaw. She’d just watched him kill a man. To save her, echoed her mind. Was that the reason?
Boon laced his fingers into her long hair, now a tangled mess of pins and tendrils, what remained of the neat bun she had fashioned at her nape yesterday morning.
He drew her forward until her breasts pressed flush against the hard contours of his chest. At that intimate contact she sucked in a breath, shocked by the rush of pleasure such pressure stirred. Her eyes flashed to him, taking in the hard angles of his jaw and the eyes that seemed feral orange in the firelight.
Then he angled her head and she realized that he meant to kiss her before them all. His mouth slanted over hers. His lips were firm and his tongue hot and wet as it slid inside her mouth. She tried to struggle, but he held her firm. Her skin flashed feverish in an instant as a tremor shook her. He deepened the kiss. She moved her tongue along his, feeling the warm velvet of his mouth, tasting the sweetness of him. She leaned forward, pressing against him.
The men whistled and shouted. Laurie came back to herself with a jolt. To her horror she felt the insistent pulse of desire beating at the juncture of her legs.
Laurie tried to break free. His muscles tensed as he resisted, but then allowed her to draw back. He stared down at her with a look that was part lust and part astonishment, as if he could not comprehend her reaction any more than she could.
She whimpered as humiliation scorched her cheeks. How could she do something so low? She closed her eyes against the shame, like a child trying to disappear in plain sight. Had he not held her upper arm, she would have collapsed, for her knees now refused to hold her.
How could she be aroused by this ruthless murderer?
She struggled, but could no more escape him than a trussed turkey could escape the axe, once its head was set upon the block. As George Hammer had predicted, she had now become the show.
This is what she had feared, every waking minute since that terrible day. Laurie fought her own shame as much as the hold of the outlaw.
She had tried to act as a proper woman, but it was just that—an act. Boon’s kiss had revealed the truth. She was wanton and wicked and low, just as she feared. Had her father seen it despite her attempt to hide the truth? Had he known she was unworthy of his love? Was it her fault all along that he left them?
Laurie staggered as her knees gave way, but Boon prevented her from falling, tugging her back against him. His brow now lifted in speculation. Clearly he had not anticipated an eager partner. Laurie struggled vainly in the iron grip of the outlaw and finally let her head sink to her chest as she went still and silent. She continued to tremble as if she stood in the snow, instead of beside a fire under a warm September sky.
“Anyone pokes his nose in before I’m finished with her and I’ll shoot it off.”
The men glared but remained by the fire as he dragged her away. She stumbled along beside him. Behind them she heard George Hammer.
“Boon’s young, boys. But young men are quick. He’ll only be a minute. Where’s that bottle? Cal, pass it around. Freet, Furlong, drag off the body. Throw him in the canyon for the buzzards.”
Boon tugged her along, but was clearly not happy with her pace because he paused long enough to lift her into his arms before breaking into a dead run.
Laurie screamed and heard the men laughing and jeering. The night was moonless and dark as black vel
vet. She could see nothing as she bounced in his arms, now fearing they might fall and break their necks.
His voice rumbled through her body as he spoke. “Stop or I’ll leave you behind.”
What did he mean by that?
Laurie’s mind dwelled again on how Boon had pulled her from the blow that George Hammer had aimed at her cheek with such finesse that the man had not even recognized what Boon had done. Her gut told her to do as he said. Still, she’d been wrong before, so wrong. Wrong about Anton, wrong about the outlaw at the station who pretended to be one of her father’s men.
Laurie considered her options and decided one outlaw was better than many. One outlaw could not watch her day and night, and she might still escape.
She went limp, lying trustingly as a newborn lamb in his arms. She did not think they would get far afoot and already feared what would happen when they were caught. George Hammer had a well-earned reputation for mercilessness. One would have to be a fool not to fear him and completely insane to cross him. She looked up at the man who carried her. Which was he?
“Where are we going?”
“Quiet,” he huffed and spun her up and over his shoulder as if he had some special gift for tossing young ladies about as if they were sacks of feed.
Her new position caused his shoulder to buffet her abdomen with each running stride, sending her corset stays digging into her flesh. She could scarcely draw a breath and the blood drained to her head, making it pound until she felt dizzy enough to faint.
Just as suddenly as they had begun, he stopped, grabbing her unceremoniously by the waistband of her new lavender overskirt and tugging her to her feet.
The soft nicker told her that there was a horse nearby.
“You planned this?” she asked.
He did not answer, but left her to move in the direction of the horses. She saw them now, two large dark outlines against the canyon wall. He checked the saddle girth and the leather buckle holding the saddlebags tied across the horse’s rump.
She stepped closer and saw a leather rifle scabbard tied beneath the saddle flap. The butt end of the rifle gleamed in the starlight.