There was no way she could follow Emery and Big John. She had no boat or raft and no clue where, in the miles of swampland, Mahmusa Janga might be found. Perhaps someone in the town would be able to help her.
If there was anyone but Yankees left in the town.
“There, pretty girl,” Catey soothed. She stroked the horse’s neck as they picked their way in the dark. She could feel the mare’s skin twitch at each lightning flash. She was a seasoned military ride but the mare was aware she carried someone much less experienced than her usual handler. “Horses need to know you’re the boss.” She could hear her father’s voice clearly. Lessons from her youth flashed through her mind and she took a firmer grip on the reins.
Thunder was coming more quickly now and the wind whipped the shadowy trees edging the road into a clattering frenzy. Long tendrils of her hair whipped across Catey’s face despite the bit of ragged cloth she’d used to tie it back. Her eyes darted frequently to the sides of the road. Something besides the storm was making her very nervous but she couldn’t see anything there but the deeper darkness of the forest and the rippling undergrowth.
It was probably the combination of the sizzling flash of lightning, the deafening boom of thunder and the glint of metal among the trees that caused the horse to take fright and rear, tossing her head, rolling her eyes and neighing loudly. Catey recognized the bore of a gun in the split second before she lost her grip on the halter and fell to the hard, clay earth. She raised horrified eyes and threw her arms up in an instinctive defensive action as she saw the horse’s huge hooves flail above. If she hadn’t thrown herself to one side, she would most certainly have been killed. As it was, she took a glancing blow of one steel-shod hoof to her head, plunging her into unconsciousness.
“She ain’t dead.”
Catey heard the voices as if in a dream. Her head throbbed and she lay unmoving, unwilling to open her eyes.
“Well, what we gonna do with ‘er?”
A pause. Thunder boomed again.
“We could jes leave ‘er here. We got th’ horse. It’ll fetch a pretty penny.”
Another pause. The wind threw dust into Catey’s face but she forced herself to lie still. She knew there were at least two men, maybe more. She could tell from their speech they weren’t Yankees. Jayhawkers, maybe, or Confederate deserters. Either way, she had little chance if they decided to kill her.
“She’s not bad lookin’. I ain’t had a woman in weeks.”
Laughter. “Yep. Nice titties.”
Catey felt a boot prod the side of her breast. Her heart was beating faster.
“We’ll take ‘er along. Can’t see any reason to waste such a pretty young thing. We’ll take ‘er back to camp…get rid o’ her when we’re through.”
There were murmurs of agreement, including a couple of lascivious remarks. Catey realized there were more of them than she’d originally thought—maybe five. God help her! She felt rough hands fumbling to lift her. Her instincts told her to fight tooth and nail but her logic knew this would be futile, so she let her muscles go slack and kept her eyes shut.
Then she was aware of another sound. The sound of hooves galloping—growing louder. The hands suddenly dropped her unceremoniously and she landed with a thud that nearly made her cry out. There was a babble of talk she couldn’t quite understand. She heard the sound of guns being drawn. Someone was coming and coming fast. She knew who it was without having to think. No one would be racing down these roads unless they were desperate to catch someone up. And the only person who’d be looking for her was the very man she’d told not to. Thank you, God! she breathed.
Jess barely had time to register the group of tattered men barring the road, with Catey lying motionless at their feet, before the first bullet zinged past his head. He yanked on the reins so hard, his horse sat back on its haunches. Throwing himself from the saddle and rolling into the undergrowth at the side of the road, he drew his pistol.
It was dark but the frequent flash of lightning made it just possible to see the shapes moving across the road. How many were there? He was sure of at least three but…
“Y’all best get up now.”
The voice was directly behind him. The cold touch of a gun muzzle against the back of his head settled any thought he might have had to make a sudden movement. Carefully he uncocked his own gun and held it out so his captor could see.
“That’s right, boyo. Now jes drop it right thar.”
Jess did as he was told.
The gun barrel at his head moved to his back and prodded. “Now get up…nice ‘n slow. Wouldn’t want to have no acc-ee-dent, would we?”
Jess rose slowly, automatically holding his arms above his head in surrender.
Catey dared to open her eyes a crack, dust kicked up from the wind brought tears. She blinked. Two men approached. As they came nearer, her stomach turned over. It was Jess. One of the men, a scrawny, dirty fellow with few teeth and long, mangy black hair, held a gun to Jess’ back. As far as she could tell, Jess was unhurt—for now.
“Hey, Gus, found us some Yankee scum!” the man with the gun called. “What d’ya think we should do with ‘im?”
Apparently Gus was standing very near Catey. His voice was low, gruff and sent a shiver down her spine. “Good work, McGraw. Guess we’ll need t’ find us a hangin’ tree.”
“Why not jes shoot ‘im?” This was another voice nearby.
“’Cause it’s too quick.” Gus spat in the dirt not far from Catey’s face. She kept her composure, careful not to let anyone know she was conscious.
The scuff of boots was very close. The man with the gun gave Jess a push, sending him sprawling in the dirt next to Catey.
Jess managed to turn his head. His hazel eyes met hers and she winced inwardly. His mouth was bleeding and his face was covered in grime. But he managed to wink at her before he was kicked viciously in the side, causing him to curl into a ball. It was all she could do to keep from crying out, for she could feel his pain as if it were her own.
Worst of all was the knowledge if Jess was killed, it would be all her fault.
She was alive! Jess rolled with the kicks, trying to keep the pain from causing him to black out. Despite their predicament, he felt only relief tempered with regret. He’d thought the worst. When he’d seen Catey lying so still in the road, those men standing over her, he thought she was dead. The idea had sent a shaft of pain so sharp into his heart he could barely breathe. Now. Now he realized. She was all there was—all that mattered. And now he’d die before he had the chance to tell her.
Catey couldn’t bear it any longer. There were four pair of boots and they were all pummeling Jess mercilessly. She raised herself on her arms. “Stop it! Please!”
It had the effect she’d hoped for. The men stopped immediately, turning their attention to her.
“So, she’s awake. Looks like we kin have us some fun, boys. Git ‘er on the horse. We’ll take ‘em both back t’ camp.”
Before the calloused hands clamped hold of her arms and hauled her away, she took one last look at Jess. He was lying in on his side, his head turned away from her. He was no longer moving. A sob caught in her throat and she jerked uselessly against the hands that gripped her. Someone passed a rope around her wrists and ankles, neatly hogtying her, despite her desperate struggles.
“That’s right, missy, you jes carry on all ye want. Ain’t nobody gonna help ya. An’ we like a gal with a bit o’ spirit. Right, boys?”
There was general guffaws and agreement as she was lifted and tossed over the back of the horse in front of the saddle, the impact knocking the wind out of her. Gus, dark-bearded and heavyset, mounted and took the reins, then, without preamble, threw her dress up, pulled down her pantaloons baring her buttocks. His palm slapped her hard, the sting of it reverberating through her body.
“Y’all be a good girl, now, sugar, and mebbe we’ll keep you around a while.”
Mortified, Catey wriggled but she couldn’t escape. He la
ughed and she felt his hand stroke her buttock where he’d slapped it. She cried out in mixed rage and shock.
“If yer nice, ye might even enjoy it, darlin’,” he said, wiggling his finger in front of her eyes, then making a show of putting it in his mouth and sucking. There was laughter from the other men.
Tears of disgust and degradation fell from Catey’s eyes but a dark emotion she’d never felt before began to grow and with it, a very clear need for revenge.
* * * * *
Jess came to, abruptly. Someone had dumped cold water on him from a water flask. He groaned. He was okay. Bruised and bloodied but it didn’t seem there were any broken bones. Blood filled his mouth and trickled from his nose and a gash in his forehead. He coughed, choking and spat the blood onto the dirt.
“C’mon, boyo. You don’ wanna miss yer own hangin’ now, do ya?”
Hands grabbed his arms and dragged him to his feet. He spat again, this time accurately hitting one of the men’s boots and getting a cuff across the ear for his effort.
He watched grimly as Catey was bound and thrown across the horse. But when he saw the greasy, bearded man throw her skirts up, something snapped inside him.
With a strength he didn’t know he had, he threw off the two men holding him, elbowing one in the face while swinging his booted foot to connect with the other’s jaw. They went down almost simultaneously and Jess leapt forward, grasping the man called Gus and ripping him from the saddle. They fell together in a heap, fists flying, rolling forward and back as they fought. Jess was ruthless, feeling supreme pleasure every time his knuckles connected with the man’s face and flabby stomach.
Gus was more burly but Jess was quick and had the advantage of surprise. He also had the momentum of sheer, unadulterated fury.
Catey heard the commotion. She heard Jess’ roar of rage, then felt the man mounted beside her pulled forcefully away. There were sounds of fists meeting flesh, grunts and scuffs. The horse threw up her head and moved away, retreating to the side of the road. The movement helped dislodge Catey so she could wriggle free, falling backward into a thicket.
She didn’t care about the scratches or bruises. She tested her bonds and realized if she crossed her thumbs carefully across her palms and made her hands as thin as possible, she might be able to pull them through the loops.
She glanced across at the two men rolling on the ground. There were two men still unconscious on the ground behind them but there were two others standing nearby, obviously temporarily uncertain what to do. She had to be quick.
With a mighty pull that felt as if it would dislocate her elbow, she managed to jerk one hand free. The ropes loosed and she quickly bent to untie her ankles.
Jess had the man on his back, kneeling on his chest. He raised his fist to drive it into the already battered face, when he felt the cold steel of a blade at his neck.
“Stop now or I’ll cut ya.”
Jess had just enough sense to pause. He was breathing heavily, his own face and body bloodied and bruised. He sat very still, gritting his teeth. He’d do Catey no good dead. He had no choice.
Slowly he raised his arms over his head for the second time that night.
“Now git up.” He did as he was told, standing and stepping to one side, while the man with the knife followed, the blade never leaving Jess’ neck.
Gus sat up, gagged and spit a wad of blood, accompanied by two teeth. With a massive effort, holding his ribs, he rose to his feet.
“Gimme that!” he said to the man holding the knife. He reached out a shaking hand. Jess knew by the look in Gus’ eyes there’d be no mercy.
There was the occasional drop of rain now, accompanying the wind. Thunder rumbled continuously and the trees lashed the air like huge predatory monsters trying to take flight.
Catey was on her feet in less than a minute, staggering toward the two unconscious men. One was beginning to groan but she kicked him hard in the head and he fell quiet again. She reached down and searched, finding what she wanted. At the same moment she saw Jess on his feet and Gus reaching to take the very large bowie knife from his compatriot.
There was no time to lose. She circled quickly and came up behind Gus, staying far enough away so she could keep an eye on all the men, including those still on the ground.
She raised the gun with both hands and, with a loud voice that sounded as if it came from someone else, said, “Drop the knife, or I’ll shoot.”
Gus turned very slowly until he faced her. The hand holding the blade was poised. He could finish Jess with one quick motion. His eyes glittered in the flickering light. Catey could see a gold tooth gleam as he smiled at her.
“Now, you ain’t gonna shoot no one, little lady. You’d best gimme that b’fore ya hurt yerself.”
Catey felt the weight of the gun in her wrists and arms as if it were an anvil. It was all she could do to keep it aimed. But that grim emotion deep in her gut was growing, making her muscles strong, making her senses sharp and alert.
Vaguely, beyond the roaring of blood in her ears, the moan of the wind and the boom of thunder, she heard what she thought was the gallop of hooves in the distance. But she knew the man she faced was a snake and would strike without warning.
“Put down the knife,” she said. Surprised her voice didn’t quaver. She noted two of the men had come up on either side of Jess. Both with their own knives drawn.
Gus cocked his head to one side. “Watcha gonna do, sugar?” He took a step toward her. “Ya gonna pull the trigger? Ya gonna kill a man?” He took another step. A few more and he’d be on her.
“I said, put the knife down!” Now her voice was shrill. The gun was becoming heavier by the second.
“Shoot, Catey!” Jess cried hoarsely. One of the men behind Gus lashed out, slashing Jess, sending blood flying in an arc.
“No!” Catey screamed as Jess went down. Gus took advantage of her distraction and strode swiftly toward her.
In the matter of a split second, Catey was aware of Jess’ blood flying as he fell. She heard horses round the bend and men’s voices. Then she saw Gus close—too close—his black devil eyes boring into hers. As if in slow motion, she saw his knife arm arc and his other arm move to knock the gun from her hands.
But she was beyond caring. All she could think about was the motionless form lying in the road. The man who’d saved her in more ways than she could count. The man she’d come to love.
She brought the muzzle up, aimed and pulled the trigger. The resultant kick from the shot threw her arms up and would have made her fall backward if her legs weren’t rigid with shock and hatred. She watched with a sense of unbridled satisfaction as a large hole opened in Gus’ forehead. He fell in a heap at her feet, twitched, then was still, his lifeless eyes eternally filled with incredulous surprise.
Catey stared at him. The acrid stink of gunpowder burned her nostrils and stung her eyes. Her hands were slippery with sweat. Suddenly she began to shake and she lowered her arms, dropping the weapon in the dirt. She waited with resignation for Gus’ men to overtake her and kill her. What did it matter, now Jess was dead?
Chapter Fifteen
“Sweet lips.”
Was it the wind? Some horrible joke of imagination? Rain had begun in earnest now. Catey was only vaguely aware. Her hair was drenched, her clothes clung like a cold, wet glove. Water drizzled down her face, mingling with twin rivers of tears.
“Catey? Darlin’?” A hand, warm, strong, gripped her arm. She recoiled and turned her head.
He was alive. “Jess!” She threw her arms around him. She held him as if her life depended on it, pressing her face against his neck, smelling his familiar, wonderful scent. So sweet! He felt solid, warm, certainly not a ghost.
He held her with one arm, his cheek resting on top of her head. The rain washed over them, lightning hissed and thunder cracked but they didn’t notice.
Suddenly she pushed away and stared at him in disbelief. “I thought…”
He staggered sl
ightly as he lost her support but smiled wanly. His face was turning purple with bruises and cuts and beneath them he was ashen. Her eyes searched frantically, finding the wound, a gash running diagonally across the top of his arm.
“God, you’re hurt! We have to get you back.” She peered around, trying to locate the horse through the heavy rain and dark. Then she saw them—shadows of men and horses, at least a dozen. Her heart sank. She turned back to Jess. She realized they didn’t have a hope of survival against so many. She put her hands on either side of his face and looked into his eyes fervently.
“Jess, I have to tell you before it’s too late…”
“Jess? Miss Allendale?”
She caught her breath. It was Jess’ father. Relief flooded her and her knees nearly buckled. The shadows of men and horses she’d assumed were more jayhawkers were her rescuers. She could now see them more clearly, rounding up the remainder of Gus’ men. “Oh, thank God!” she breathed. She turned to the colonel. “Please, you have to help. Jess is hurt.”
As if her words were a catalyst, Jess slumped against her. Colonel Granger managed to catch him, taking most of the weight.
“Jordan! Ramsey!” he barked. Instantly, two Yankee soldiers appeared at his side. Between them, they carefully lifted Jess onto a horse. The colonel mounted behind, holding his unconscious son.
He looked down at Catey, his eyes were dark, unreadable. “You’ll ride with Jordan,” he said simply. Then shouted to his men. “Get those scum back to base camp. We’ll deal with them there.” And with that, he wheeled his horse, kicked it into a gallop and disappeared in the direction of Allendale.
* * * * *
Jess opened his eyes. A golden light was just filtering through the gently billowing gauze curtains, barely illuminating the room. He was in the bed at Allendale, a blanket covering his naked body, his upper arm heavily bandaged. Aside from its throbbing, he felt surprisingly good. He remembered everything and the relief at finding Catey, holding her—after he’d almost resigned himself to losing her forever—still filled him with euphoria.
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