Bound for Eden

by Tess LeSue

  Luke’s jaw clenched at the thought of Alex in the hands of this weasel. God only knew what he’d done with her. Obediently, he walked back to the camp, his mind racing as he tried to figure out how to take control of the situation.

  He found the camp much as he’d expected: the campers were huddled around the fire, subdued in the face of the Grady brothers’ shotguns. One squeeze of the trigger and the lot of them would be peppered with buckshot. Victoria was trapped by Bert’s meaty arm. He’d hauled her close against him and had his hand wrapped around her throat. Luke could see her trembling.

  If there was one thing he couldn’t abide it was a man who mistreated women. He flexed his fingers. Just wait until he got his hands on the bastard.

  “Watch yourself, Slater,” Gideon reminded him. He slid around in front of Luke, keeping his weapon trained on the bigger man. “You lot”—Gideon gestured at the campers—“get yourselves in that wagon.” He pointed them toward the Crawfords’ massive wagon. “Slowly and carefully. Travis, you keep guard.”

  He was smart, this weasel, Luke thought. If the campers were in the confines of the wagon Travis could not only watch them, he could hit them all with a single shot of buckshot. Luke watched as they climbed into the wagon. The brutish Travis stood at the opening, peering along the barrel of his raised shotgun.

  Victoria squealed and Luke turned his attention back to Gideon, only to find that he’d snatched Victoria away from his brother. Now Bert’s shotgun was aimed directly at Luke.

  Victoria was breathing shallowly, panicked, as Gideon held her in front of him and rested the barrel of his gun against her cheek. “She’s lovely, isn’t she?” Gideon taunted, rubbing the weapon over her soft flesh. “I’ve noticed you spend a lot of time with her, Slater. You like the ladies, don’t you?” Gideon leaned into Victoria until his lips were brushing her ear. She shuddered. “He tell you about how he likes whores, sweetheart? And they sure do like him in return.” The weasel’s eyes flicked up and met Luke’s. They were narrow and mean. “That night of the fire,” he hissed into Victoria’s ear. “I heard ’em through the wall. You never heard such moaning from a woman.”

  Luke’s blood boiled and he started forward. He couldn’t bear this animal talking that way about Beatrice. He stopped dead when Gideon slid the tip of his gun into Victoria’s mouth. Her eyes were huge with terror.

  “You see how he loves his whores, sweetheart? You see how he wants to defend their honor?” Gideon laughed softly.

  “What do you want, Grady?” Luke asked tersely, unable to tear his eyes away from where the gun disappeared between Victoria’s lips.

  “What I’ve always wanted, Slater,” Gideon hissed. “The Barratt bitch.”

  Luke frowned, confused. What did he mean? He’d taken Alex in the night. Hadn’t he?

  “Don’t play dumb with me, Slater.”

  My brothers have the girl. He’d meant Victoria. Suddenly a thought dawned on Luke. “Where’s your brother Silas?”

  Gideon laughed. “He had a little accident.”

  The memory of the knife at Silas’s throat flared in Luke’s mind. Hell. If the man had no compunction about killing his brother, then what would he do here and now?

  Victoria whimpered as the gun slid deeper into her mouth.

  In that moment Luke wanted to kill him. Slowly.

  “Hand her over, Slater.”

  What would the maniac do if he discovered Alex wasn’t here? How twitchy was his trigger finger?

  “Give me the bitch, Slater, and you can have your sweetheart back.”

  “Why do you want the girl so much?” Luke stalled.

  Through a gap in the canvas, Ned O’Brien watched the tense confrontation. He couldn’t hear their words, but he could see clear as day the gun violating Victoria’s sweet rosebud mouth. His heart galloped in his chest. He’d never considered himself a brave man, but there came a time when a man had to act: The truly brave, when they behold the brave oppressed with odds, are touched with a desire to shield and save. Byron again. Ever since he’d met Victoria he had been full of Byron, full of the same wildness and passion as the romantic poet. And now here he was, facing down a shotgun, and a man twice his size, about to do the craziest thing he’d ever done.

  Slowly, his hand only barely shaking, Ned withdrew his brand new gun from the inside pocket of his coat. He’d never got around to getting a holster, and the brutes hadn’t bothered to check their victims’ pockets. Speed was the key, he thought, as he drew a shaky breath. On the count of three . . . one . . . two . . . He’d emptied the barrel before the brute knew what was happening.

  Travis went down.

  Shocked, Bert and Gideon turned to see what had happened. Luke launched himself forward, knocking Victoria and the weasel to the ground. Gideon’s gun went flying and Victoria screamed. Luke registered blood, but didn’t pause. His hands wrapped around Gideon’s scrawny throat.

  “Travis?” Bert called anxiously. “Gideon?”

  As Gideon clawed at Luke’s hands, his face turning red, Luke stole a glance at Bert. He was jiggling on his feet, on edge, his gaze flicking back and forth between his brothers, his finger spasming against the trigger. He looked like he’d pull it at any moment.

  “You shoot me, you’ll hit your brother,” Luke warned him, struggling to keep his voice flat and calm. Gideon was bucking under him, trying to get his knee up toward Luke’s crotch. Luke tightened his grip around the weasel’s throat, glad the man was so weedy. He wasn’t sure he would have been able to subdue Travis or Bert so easily.

  Gideon’s eyes rolled over in his head and suddenly he was still.

  Luke released him. He’d only passed out from lack of oxygen. Luke would have to hurry up and get Bert under control so he could bind Gideon before he came to.

  Ned’s ears were ringing from the gunfire, but he wasn’t about to lose his advantage. “Stay here,” he bellowed at his children, as he scrambled to the tail of the wagon. His heart stopped in his chest when he reached the tailgate and Travis loomed before him. He’d fired six bullets at the man. He’d gone down like a sack of potatoes.

  Not because he’d been hit, Ned knew with a sense of sickened horror. The brute didn’t have a scratch on him. The only reason he’d dropped to the dust was out of an animalistic sense of self-preservation. And now here he was again, his shotgun practically touching the tip of Ned’s nose. The world slowed down. Ned could see the man’s finger curling around the trigger, he could see it begin to squeeze.

  For the first time in his life, Ned O’Brien did something without thinking. He threw himself forward a mere heartbeat before the gun discharged, knocking Travis backward. The buckshot scattered through the saltbrush, snapping twigs and sending up puffs of red dust as it hit the ground.

  Ned didn’t have time to reload his weapon. Instead, still acting on instinct, he smashed the gun into Travis’s jaw. And this time the man really did go down. Hard.

  Before Luke could get to him, Bert had grabbed Victoria. Her hands were clenched to her mouth and blood dribbled through her fingers. “Stay back!” Bert called, his voice revealing his panic.

  “Give yourself up, Grady,” Luke said, slowly rising. Behind Bert he could see the men dropping down from the wagon and stepping over Travis’s prone body. “You’re outnumbered.”

  “You won’t do anything to me while I’ve got the girl.”

  Luke could see Ned fumbling to slide fresh bullets into the barrel of his gun. Hurry up, O’Brien, he thought impatiently. Luke met Victoria’s glazed brown eyes and silently tried to reassure her. “What are you going to do?” he asked Bert calmly. “Both of your brothers are down.”

  Bert’s eyes were beginning to roll. Luke had to keep him calm. The last thing he wanted was for him to get trigger-happy. “If you let her go, we’ll let you walk out of here.”

  Bert snorted.

 
“I swear,” Luke assured him. “You have my word.” Bert was sweating. Luke could see the sun glinting off the moisture above his lip. “I’m not armed.” Luke held his hands up. “Just let her go and you can walk out of here unscathed.”

  Bert grunted and clenched Victoria even more tightly. “I don’t think so, Slater. The girl’s coming with me.”

  “Over my dead body,” Ned rasped, as he stuck his gun behind Bert’s jaw.

  Hell. Luke half expected the shotgun to go off, half expected to see Victoria fall. But Bert’s nerves were stronger than he’d thought. The man simply froze. And it was with a measure of relief, Luke thought, that he dropped his weapon and surrendered.

  Victoria sank to the ground, sobbing.

  “Fetch me as much rope as you can find,” Luke called to the Watts brothers. He could hear the women and children weeping. He wanted to get this nightmare over as fast as possible.

  As soon as Luke grabbed Bert by the scruff of the neck, the gun fell from Ned’s suddenly trembling fingers. All vestiges of calm left him. He’d shot at a man; he’d pistol-whipped a man; he’d threatened a man with cold-blooded murder. Him! Ned O’Brien!

  Victoria’s sobs pulled him to his senses. Hastily he removed his jacket and wrapped it around her, pulling her into a close embrace. “Hush,” he soothed, rocking her as he did his youngest daughter when she woke from a nightmare.

  It was only when Luke had the Gradys gagged and bound, watched over by the armed Watts brothers, that he remembered Alex. The brat was still out there somewhere, in who knew what kind of trouble.

  29

  “WHERE’S MY SISTER?” Alex demanded, glaring up at Silas. “And what the hell happened to your face?”

  One of Silas’s hands self-consciously rose to brush the ugly raw slashes across his face. “Gideon happened,” he said grimly.

  Alex gaped. “He did that to you? His own brother?”

  Silas gave her a hard look. “He said it would remind me.”

  “Of what?” Alex asked cautiously, struggling to get to her feet. Silas Grady was almost the last person on earth she wanted to be alone with, second only to his crazy brother.

  Silas gave a sharp bark of laughter. “Have a look more closely. What do you see?”

  Nervously, Alex examined his cuts, which were only just beginning to scab over. Her eyes widened in horror and the hair on the nape of her neck stood on end. The slashes formed a crude letter A.

  “He said you owned me, so I might as well bear the mark of a slave.”

  Alex flushed.

  “He followed me that day at the river,” Silas said bitterly, “he heard every word.”

  “I’m sorry,” Alex breathed.

  Silas shook his head. “Don’t you see? If you’d come with me he would have killed us both.”

  “Where’s my sister, Silas?” Alex was alarmed by his talk of murder.

  Silas looked confused.

  “Victoria,” Alex pleaded, “please tell me she’s all right, please tell me he hasn’t killed her.”

  His expression cleared and an odd smile played around the corners of his disfigured mouth. “Haven’t you figured it out yet? No one has your sister.”

  “But the note, her yellow dress . . .”

  “I had to get you away,” Silas told her, sounding proud of himself. “He was coming for you. He would have killed you. After he . . .” He trailed off significantly, a black scowl darkening his face. “You’re mine, Alex. I’ll kill any man who touches you.”

  “You bastard,” Alex gasped. “What do you think he’ll do to them when he finds me gone?”

  Silas shrugged.

  Alex grabbed a rock and hurled it at him. It smashed him in the mouth and he gave a yell, which echoed across the valley and off the low hills nearby. “And to think I actually felt sympathy for you,” she spat.

  “I don’t want your pity,” he shouted, outraged.

  “You won’t even get that!” Alex shouted right back at him. “You have nothing but my contempt.”

  He came after her. She tried to run, but he was too quick for her. He tackled her to the hard ground, his knee forcing her legs apart and his hot breath hitting her in the face.

  He looked down into her furious gray eyes, feeling her writhing beneath him, and he lost control. Ignoring the pain in his ruined lips, his mouth assaulted hers. Alex screamed into his kiss and tried to claw at him, but he’d caught her wrists.

  Alex’s rage dissolved into blind terror as his knee rammed into her. Oh hell, she was alone out here in the wilderness with this savage. She began to panic when he clasped both of her of wrists in one hand, freeing his other to tear at her clothing. The bib of her overalls tore. The buttons popped free of her shirt, and then his hand was ripping at the bandages binding her. When she felt his hand close around her bare breast she snapped, and bit down hard on his tongue.

  He screamed, blood pouring down his chin, but he didn’t loosen his grip. He’d dreamed of this moment for too long to relinquish it.

  Alex fought like a wildcat but, despite her best efforts, she was soon half-naked and in danger of losing the battle. And then she heard a whistle. Silas went rigid and screamed even louder than he had when she’d bitten him.

  There was another whistle. Silas scrambled off her and as he fled Alex saw two arrows sticking out him, one in each buttock. As he ran there was another whistle and, with a meaty thud, a wicked-looking arrow, bristling with stiff white feathers, lodged in his shoulder. He went down, shrieking.

  In shock, Alex turned to see a dark silhouette looming above them near the base of the jutting rock. As she watched, it slunk down the steep rock, silent and graceful. It was an Indian man. Alex felt a stab of fear. She’d never been so close to an Indian before in her life. And this one was terrifying.

  He was broad across the shoulders and chest, a fact emphasized by the fringing on his long buckskin shirt. His jet-black hair fell well past his shoulders and was decorated with a single black-tipped feather. His face was angular and cruel. But it was his eyes that really struck fear into Alex. They were so pale they were almost colorless, and were piercing like the eyes of a wolf. They seemed devoid of human emotion.

  But then, as he stared down at her, she thought she saw a twinkle.

  “I have been watching you all morning,” he said in perfect, unaccented English. “I thought you were a boy.” His gaze dropped to the lush curves of her breasts, which she was struggling to hide with her hands. “I was wrong.”

  She scowled at him, not appreciating his dry humor.

  In one smooth movement, the Indian pulled his buckskin shirt over his head. He dropped it across Alex’s lap. “I don’t think yours will do you much good anymore.”

  If she had never seen Luke Slater she would have thought that this man was perfect. His body was all long muscle, burnished by the sun. She tore her gaze away and struggled into his shirt. She was surprised at the suppleness of the leather; it felt like velvet against her bare skin. On her the shirt fell to her shins, becoming more of a dress. Thank heavens it fell straight, and didn’t cling to her curves. The last thing she needed was everyone in camp seeing she was a girl. Or Luke realizing that she wasn’t a child.

  As she dressed, the Indian strode to where Silas lay whimpering in the dust. He gave a high whistle and after a moment a horse and pony came trotting around from behind the base of Chimney Rock. Alex watched as the Indian trussed Silas up and tossed him over the back of the pony. Then he tied Silas’s roan to the pony’s harness.

  “Where are you taking him?” Alex asked warily.

  “That depends,” the Indian replied.

  “On what?”

  “On where I am taking you.”

  “You don’t have to take me anywhere,” Alex said nervously, “I mean, thank you, it’s a very kind offer, but I’ll be just fine walking back by myself.
”

  One elegant black eyebrow rose as he regarded her dubiously.

  “And thank you so much for the shirt,” she blathered on, beginning to back away. “I’d really best be off now, everybody must be dreadfully worried about me.” And, truth be told, she was dreadfully worried about them. What if Gideon had shown up while she was gone?

  With a polite smile, she bid the Indian farewell, trying not to think about what he’d do to Silas, and headed back the way she’d come. Only . . . she couldn’t exactly remember which way that was. The sun had come up on her left. Hadn’t it? Or had it been directly in front of her? Oh glory, she’d been too distracted to pay attention.

  She heard hoofbeats and the jangle of a bit. The shadow of the Indian fell across her. “You came from that direction,” he told her calmly, gesturing.

  “Thank you.” Alex set off. She’d forgotten how sore her muscles were. And now she had the extra discomfort of the bruises she’d received when Silas had tackled her to the ground. She was aware of the Indian riding slowly at her side. She was also aware of Silas glaring at her from where he hung upside down over the pony.

  “I would be more than happy to take you where you’re going,” the Indian said.

  “I couldn’t put you out,” she insisted firmly. There was no way she was getting up in the saddle with such an intimidating man. He might be as much of a maniac as Gideon was, for all she knew.

  “You’re very stubborn,” he observed. And then he scooped her up and deposited her in the saddle in front of him, as though she weighed no more than a feather. She grabbed for the pommel. She was getting mighty sick of the way these men kept hauling her about like a bale of hay.

  “I don’t even know your name,” Alex said tightly.

  “Is that what’s bothering you?” She thought she could detect a note of amusement in that cool voice. “That we haven’t been formally introduced?”

  Formally introduced. It was the last thing she expected an Indian to say. Where had he learned his English?