by Connie Mason
On that note they parted, all but Colt entering the bunkhouse to eat the cold meal Sanchez had prepared hours earlier, and bed down. After rubbing down Thunder, feeding and watering him, Colt continued on to the darkened house. He picked listlessly at leftovers Sam had prepared that day, not really hungry, and found himself wandering into her bedroom. He lit a lamp and gazed around the room in numb fascination. It didn’t seem possible that he and Sam had made love only hours ago and now she was missing.
Things just didn’t make sense. There was a connection here that he was missing. Were the Crowders trying to get at him through Sam? Were the Logans involved? It was all so confusing, Colt reflected as he stretched out on Sam’s bed, inhaling deeply of the special aroma that clung to the bedclothes. It was sweet, spicy, and deliciously arousing.
Should he never see Sam again, Colt knew he would remember to the end of his days the images that now burned in his brain as if etched in fire. Sam, her golden body stretched beneath him in wild abandon; Sam, his name bursting from her lips at the peak of her ecstasy. Nothing in his life could equal the pleasure he found in her arms or the strange conflicting emotions she forced him to acknowledge.
It wasn’t just the joy of making love to Sam, it was her feisty spirit, her humor, the love packaged in her delectable body, her loyalty when she had come to his defense against the Crowders. She was proud, reckless, and so beautiful it hurt to look at her, and wildly satisfying in bed. Colt had known other women with one or two of those attributes, but not one who possessed them all wrapped in a curvacious little bundle of trouble. She had the face of an angel, the body of a goddess, and a vocabulary that could singe the ears off a brass monkey. And he loved her! Christ! He loved her and didn’t want to lose her. The realization exploded brilliantly within him. If need be, he’d search the width and breadth of Texas to find her.
After chewing for a time on the discovery of his feelings, Colt began to wonder what Sam felt for him. Hatred, certainly, for the high-handed manner in which he treated her. He had shot her, taken her home from her, and relieved her of her maidenhead. “Christ!” The oath was ripped from his throat and echoed hollowly in the darkened room.
Yet when they made love he could swear there was something there besides hatred. A spark? No, stronger than a spark. A flame. Yes, a flame that ignited and devoured them with brilliant, consuming fire. Their lovemaking was spontaneous and wild and sweet and—no, don’t think about it, he lectured himself sternly. Just find Sam, tell her how you feel and hope she doesn’t laugh in your face. On that thought he slid into a fitful slumber.
Sometime during the night Colt awakened to the sound of thunder and a flash of lightning. A shortlived but turbulent thunderstorm passed. In normal conditions it would be a blessing, but tonight the storm produced a feeling of hopelessness. For no one knew better than Colt that there would be no tracks to follow come morning.
Colt’s prediction proved correct. If tracks had existed they were obliterated in the storm’s fury the night before. It didn’t take Colt long to realize there was nothing to be gained by looking for nonexistent signs.
“I’m headin’ to town, Jake,” he informed his foreman. “You and the boys keep searchin’. The Crowders gotta be camped somewhere in these hills. My gut feelin’ tells me the Logans are somehow involved in all this. If you find anythin’ send one of the boys after me. Otherwise I’ll meet you back at the ranch tonight. I need to talk to Jim and see the sheriff about gettin’ up a posse.”
Jake had time for nothing more than a brief nod before Colt rode off hell for leather.
The sensation of muted light against her closed eyelids lured Sam from sleep. Her head throbbed with pain, the blanket covering her was soggy after last night’s rainstorm, and she had never felt more miserable in her life. A sudden movement of her limbs brought an agonized groan to her lips. To her horror she found her wrists and ankles bound tightly, the discomfort excruciating. Her bound hands flew to her head, where a Texas-sized lump met her searching fingertips. Then Sam became aware of an urgent need and tried to rise, glancing around frantically to get her bearings.
“Sit down, girl, you ain’t goin’ noplace.” Lyle Crowder stood glowering over her.
“I need some privacy,” Sam insisted. Her eyes met his defiantly. “Please untie me.” Awkwardly she rose to her knees and the blanket fell away, immediately drawing Lyle’s hungry gaze to her breasts. Sam gasped, bringing her bound hands up but unable to do anything about her gaping shirt.
“What did you do to me, you uncivilized jackass?” she accused hotly.
Stunned by her colorful words, Lyle asked, “What kind of lady uses language like that?”
“A lady like me!” Sam responded shortly.
The last thing Sam remembered before awakening this morning was being manhandled by Blackie. Had he raped her? Then she relaxed somewhat, realizing she’d definitely know it if she’d been assaulted. “What did you do to me?” she repeated heatedly.
“No one touched you,” Lyle growled. He knew it wouldn’t do for Sam to believe she’d been raped, for she’d likely tell Logan and he’d be furious. “Blackie got a mite carried away but he didn’t hurt you none.”
“I didn’t get this lump on my head by myself,” Sam accused. “Nor did my shirt unbutton itself.”
“I told you Blackie was being a mite playful and you bumped your head when you fell. As to your shirt—” He shrugged, leaving his sentence dangling and Sam’s temper soaring.
“Release me at once, you bushy-tailed skunk! You dirty, stinking—”
“Shut up, girl!” roared Lyle, losing what little patience he possessed. “Ladies ain’t supposed to act like you. You’re more trouble than a horde of hungry grasshoppers at harvest.”
“You don’t know what trouble is until Colt catches up with you,” Sam taunted relentlessly.
Slanting her a quelling look, Lyle turned on his heel.
“Wait! I…need to go—I need a few minutes privacy. Untie me … please,” she added, the word nearly choking her.
“I reckon you ain’t goin’ nowhere with all of us nearby,” Lyle allowed grudgingly as he stooped to untie her ankles and then her hands. While she hastily fastened her shirt, Lyle led her to several large boulders to the left of their campsite. “Make it snappy. If you ain’t out in five minutes I’m comin’ after you.” Nodding grimly, Sam scurried behind the rocks.
Finishing quickly, Sam surveyed her surroundings, noting the thick brush and stand of cedar trees stretching out behind her. Without giving the matter a second thought, she turned and darted into the thicket. Behind her she heard Lyle’s rough voice calling. “Time’s up, girl. Come out now or I’m comin’ in.” A moment of silence was followed by a vile curse and the sound of footsteps crashing through the bushes.
The sounds of pursuit grew louder, but Sam refused to surrender despite the fact that her head pounded painfully and her breath shuddered in her chest. But in the end all her effort was wasted and she was brought down by Lyle’s heavy body. Pinned to the ground, she glared murderously at the outlaw, eyes spitting violet flames. Hauling her roughly to her feet, a thoroughly disgruntled Lyle dragged her none too gently back to camp.
What did these desperadoes have planned for her? she wondered glumly. It was obvious by now they wanted her for a purpose other than rape. Yesterday Lyle had said something about following orders. Whose orders? What kind of orders? No doubt she’d find out shortly, she reflected as Lyle shoved her to the ground and retied her feet while leaving her hands free long enough to eat the unappetizing meal set before her. Then, after a short interval, her hands too were bound as tightly as before.
Colt dismounted in front of the sheriffs office, wrapped Thunder’s reins around the hitching post, and walked inside. Sheriff Bauer looked up, grimaced in annoyance, and asked nastily, “What brings you here, Ranger? You sure as hell didn’t need me when you chased the Crowders out of town.”
“Samantha Howard is missin’,” Colt said w
ithout preamble. “I believe the Crowders are responsible.”
“If she was stupid enough to ride out by herself, she probably got what she deserves,” Bauer grunted. “That was a foolish thing she did at the Palace Saloon. What lady would burst into a dangerous situation brandishing a gun and spouting threats?”
“That’s more than you did,” Colt returned bitingly. “That little lady has more gumption in her little finger than you do in your whole damn body.” Bauer had the grace to flush. “But I didn’t come here to trade insults, I came to ask you to head up a posse. A woman has been abducted and it’s your duty to help find her. The Crowders have gone too far this time.”
“Are you so sure it’s the Crowders? Indians have been raidin’ in the area. Just recendy Herr Krebs lost nearly all his herd.”
“I’m not askin’, Bauer, I’m tellin’,” Colt delivered with cool authority. “Get up a posse and start searchin’ the hills outside town.”
“Gott in himmel!” Bauer blustered. “This is my town. You got no right to—”
“Now, Bauer!” Colt’s words left no room for argument as he turned and stalked out the door.
Colt paced impatiendy in his room above the Palace while Sheriff Bauer rounded up a posse. As the townspeople gathered to watch the men ride out of town, a lone figure detached itself from the crowd, slipped into the saloon and up the stairs where he tapped out a prearranged signal on Colt’s door. The door swung open almost immediately.
“Where in the hell you been, Colt?” Jim Blake questioned, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. “Vern Logan is up to somethin’.”
Bells went off in Colt’s head. “Spell it out, Jim.”
“This mornin’ I moseyed over to Logan’s office to ask about a job he promised me and saw a man sneakin’ out the back door.”
“Did you recognize him?” Colt asked eagerly. “This could be the break we been waitin’ for.”
“Nope, didn’t get that good a look, but I’m certain I never saw him before.” Colt’s hopes plummeted. “But that’s not all.”
“Go on,” Colt urged.
“When Vern let me in, the safe was open and he was in a damn hurry to leave. Said we’d talk later and lit outta there like a skunk was on his tail. He had a wad of money in his hand.”
“Did you follow?”
“Only until he joined up with the other fella west of town. Then I hightailed it back to tell you. Where’ve you been?”
“Did you hear about Samantha Howard?”
“Yep. Almost joined the posse till I spied you goin’ into the Palace. What’s goin’ on, Colt?”
“Does old man Logan know about Vern’s visitor?”
“Nope. Old Calvin is in San Antonio conferrin’ with officials from the railroad, accordin’ to Vern. Reckon there’s a link between the Logans and the girl’s abduction? Or do you suspect Indians?”
“Definitely not Indians. You know my gut instincts are usually right, Jim, and this time they tell me the Crowders are workin’ for Vern in this. I wish you had followed Vern. I think he might lead us to Sam.”
“Damn, Colt, I wish I’da known.”
“You couldn’t have, Jim. Don’t worry, I’ll find Sam if it’s the last thing I do.”
“Do I detect somethin’ other than duty where Miss Howard is concerned?” Jim asked bluntly. “From what little you’ve told me about the lady, ‘pears she’s rather … er … unique. Has the invincible Ranger Colter finally met his match? I thought Dolly had an inside track.”
“That’s neither here nor there, Jim, but I will admit Sam is special,” Colt admitted. “How long ago did Vern light outta here?”
“Two, three hours ago,” Jim calculated.
“If I leave now, there’s a good chance I can pick up his trail.”
“Want me to come along?”
“Nope. Stay here and keep an eye on things. I’ll be in touch.”
Sam hated the way the Crowders kept looking at her—with hungry, sidelong glances. She knew what they were thinking and tried to make herself as small as possible. She still remained in the dark as to the gang’s intentions for her but knew they couldn’t be good. By now Colt must know she was missing and would be out combing the countryside. But would he? Did he care enough about her to endanger his life? Even if Colt wasn’t actively searching for her, Jake, Will, and the ranch hands surely must be. Her mind worked furiously, clutching at any straw, clinging to the slightest hope.
The restless shuffle of livestock caught Sam’s attention and she turned to where several hundred head of cattle were milling about in the natural box canyon which provided a perfect stockade when fenced across the open end. Sam reckoned if she was to look closely the cows would bear brands of nearly every rancher in the area, including the Circle H. She heard snippets of talk indicating that the gang intended to drive the cattle across the border into Mexico and sell them.
The hours dragged by slowly, and Sam was surprised when her bonds were released and she was allowed to move about a bit before being bound loosely around the middle to a tree, her arms and legs left free. This arrangement was still far from comfortable but much better than the previous one. She was grateful for that much, for the pains in her limbs had become unbearable.
Suddenly a commotion brought the desperadoes to their feet and their hands groping for their weapons. Two horsemen approached camp and Sam blanched, immediately recognizing the man with Blackie. Vern Logan! What was he doing here?
Vern glanced surreptitiously around the crude camp, spotted Sam, and leaped to the ground. “Samantha! Are you hurt?” He raced to her side, hunkering down beside her. Sam was beyond speech, but Vern could see at a glance that other than a few bruises she appeared unhurt. “Thank God I’ve come in time.”
“I… I don’t understand,” Sam stammered, finally finding her tongue. “How did you find me? What is this all about?”
“I found one of the Crowders at my door this mornin’ demandin’ ransom,” Vern said, using the story he had decided upon.
“Ransom! Is that why I’m here? Why did they come to you?”
“It’s no secret you’re my intended wife. I’ve said as much often enough, to anyone who would listen. The Crowders need money and thought to use you as a means of gettin’ it. They know Daddy is rich and I’d pay anythin’ to get you back.”
“They stole all the cattle, Vern. They’re thieves. You can see the many different brands from here if you look closely. How can you expect these no-good varmints to keep their word? They’ll kill us both.”
“I had no choice but to trust them, Samantha,” Vern temporized. “The cattle are no concern of ours. We gotta get outta here as quickly as possible.”
“How much is that skunk demanding for ransom?” Sam bit out, glowering murderously at Lyle.
“Ten thousand dollars,” Vern lied, slanting a warning glance at the outlaw. He wanted Sam to think he was parting with a fortune for her release.
“Ten thousand! Why … why, that’s robbery!” Sam blasted, paling. It shocked her that Vern was willing to part with so much money in her behalf. Perhaps she had misjudged him. Maybe he did care for her. Colt could be wrong about him and his father. If Calvin was guilty of fleecing the ranchers, perhaps Vern wasn’t aware of it.
“You’re worth every penny, Samantha,” Vern said, gloating. He had the little vixen right where he wanted her. To Lyle he said, “Leave us alone for a few minutes, I want to talk to Samantha privately.”
A frown drew Lyle’s shaggy brows together, but he ambled off to converse with Dusty. “Thank you, Vern,” Sam said sincerely. “I’ll not forget this. Somehow I’ll find a way to repay you.”
“There’s only one way you can repay me, Samantha,” Vern said, impaling her with his piercing gaze. “I’ve arranged for us to be married the moment we return to Karlsburg. Daddy’s badgerin’ me to marry, and you’re the only woman I’ll settle for.”
“No, Vern, it won’t work,” Sam said with conviction.
“Please untie me. I won’t breathe easy until we put distance between us and these dirty renegades.”
Vern’s voice was low and strident. “You mistake what I’m tellin’ you, Samantha. I’m willin’ to part with a fortune only if you cooperate. I risked my neck for you, and if you value yours you’ll agree to my terms.” His meaning couldn’t be any plainer, putting a whole different light on his selflessness.
“Sounds like blackmail, Vern. What happens if I refuse to do what you want?”
“I’ll be blunt, Samantha. I thought you’d be grateful enough to marry me. But I can be stubborn, too. If you don’t agree to my terms you’ll find yourself on the way to Mexico, where Crowder will make a small fortune sellin’ you to a brothel, after they finish with you. I’d advise you to think carefully before you refuse. As my wife you’ll lack for nothin’. If you please me I might even purchase the Circle H from the new owner and give it back to you.”
Sam laughed harshly. Buy the ranch from Colt? She seriously doubted that Colt would give the time of day to Vern, let alone sell him the ranch. Yet she had to say something to appease Vern or he might leave her to the Crowders as he threatened. She could always agree to marry him and worry about it later. Surely Colt wouldn’t stand idly by and allow her to marry a polecat like Vern. When Vern had arrived at the Crowder camp she’d looked on him as a savior, but now she saw him for the vile varmint he was.
“Release me, Vern, we’ll talk about marriage later,” Sam pleaded. She wanted to lash him with all the stinging oaths she knew, which were considerable, but instead she concealed her anger and attempted to placate him.
“Enough chit-chat, Logan. Where’s the money?” Growing impatient, Lyle butted into the conversation that was beginning to bore him.
Vern reached into his inside pocket and extracted a thick envelope, slapping it into Lyle’s hands. Lyle sneered at Vern with something akin to loathing, then turned his back to count it.
“Are we gettin’ married, Samantha?” Vern persisted doggedly.