He screamed a wild curse, but she was already rounding the end of the bed, on her way out the door. Without glancing back she tore down the stairs, tripping over her skirt and sliding roughly to the floor below. She picked herself up and raced to the front door, pulling it open and propelling herself outside.
Her plan hadn’t gone any further than her escape, and once outside, she ran, willy-nilly over the ground, finally rushing toward the barn. She ran into a thin, wiry chest.
“Hey, there, girlie.”
Relief weakened her. It was Dallas. Lovable old Dallas. His feed bag whiskers brushed against her forehead. “Oh … oh, Dallas, am I glad it’s you. Please,” she huffed, trying to catch her breath. “Please, would you help me saddle a horse?”
“Well, now, missy,” he said seriously. “Where ya gonna go so early in the mornin’?”
“I … I have to get over to Carmen’s to see how the children are,” she lied blithely.
Dallas looked over her shoulder and grinned. “Mornin’, boss. Got kind of an ugly bash there, ain’t ya?”
“Good morning, Dallas. Thanks for stopping her.”
Molly’s stomach dropped to her knees. How could he sound so calm when she knew he probably wanted to kill her? She didn’t even want to turn around to see what damage she’d done, but Charles grabbed her shoulders and turned her toward him. The entire side of his head was bleeding. His neck, his ear and his cheek dripped with blood. It had even soaked into the collar of his shirt. She must have caught him good with the ragged edges of wood. He carried a bloody towel.
His eyes narrowed at her, tiny cold, blue slits that bore into her. “That wasn’t a very smart thing to do,” he said in a quiet, unpleasant voice. She sensed the depth of his anger. His need to possess had been thwarted.
“Need anything else, boss?”
Charles didn’t take his eyes off her. “Saddle my horse. Margaret and I are going for a ride.”
Dallas shuffled off to get the mount, and Molly looked around wildly, wondering if she had any chance at all.
“Don’t even think about it,” he warned.
She pulled herself up straight. “Can you tell me where we’re going?”
He blotted his neck with the towel, never taking his eyes off her. “I can, but I won’t. After what you did, you don’t deserve to know.”
She turned away, unwilling to let him see the fear in her eyes. Well, she’d really gotten herself into a muddle this time. Clearing her throat against the urge to cry, she said, “You can’t really blame me for defending myself, can you?”
Dallas shuffled out of the depths of the barn, leading Charles’s mount. Charles tossed him a long leather thong. “Tie her hands behind her back.”
Without question, Dallas did as he was told. Molly sucked in a breath, then pressed her lips together against the pain in her wrist. In a matter of moments, she was in the saddle. Charles had gone to the shelf beside the window and was coming back toward them.
Dallas looked up at her and gave her his stupid, toothless grin.
“Dallas, I thought we were friends,” she said, giving him a sad smile.
“Woulda been, if’n ya’d gone an’ married m’boy, here.”
She shook her head. “Can’t you see the kind of man he is? What’s he ever done for you?”
Dallas cackled. “Ain’t what he done fer me, it’s what I done fer his pa. Years and years ago, now. Women generally ain’t to be trusted, missy. His ma weren’t, and you ain’t.”
Charles swung up behind her, and as they left the ranch, she felt strongly that Dallas was the one who had informed the elder Campion of his wife’s Indian pregnancy. If Molly had discovered that sooner, she would have known not to trust the old man at all.
They rode deeper into the canyon. The caprock loomed ominously on either side, shading the crimson walls from the hot morning sun.
Molly sat straight, not wanting to touch Charles at all. That wasn’t possible, of course, for the front of his thighs automatically moved against the backs of hers. The contact made her skin crawl.
They rode for nearly an hour; neither spoke. Molly tried to focus on the landscape, noting an occasional wild turkey sprinting into the air from its hiding place among the bulrushes along the creek. The lilting whistle of a meadowlark broke through the sound of the whining wind, and from far away, she thought she heard a coyote bark.
They stopped abruptly. Molly studied the cliffs around them, seeing nothing. Suddenly, her heart nearly sprang from her chest. Buck appeared about fifty feet from them, a rifle slung over his shoulder.
“All right, Campion,” he shouted. “Let’s get this over with.”
Charles dismounted, then pulled Molly down, holding her in front of him. “Show me what you’ve got, Randall.” He dragged Molly with him, edging closer to where Buck stood.
Buck pulled out a piece of paper, unfolded it and held it by one end. “This is what you want.”
Charles let out a cross between a laugh and a scoff. “You could be holding anything there, Randall. Read it to me.”
Molly listened as Buck read the letter.
“ ‘Charles Campion, owner of the Double Bar C Ranch, blackmailed me into leasing him my land for the use of hiding cattle which he admittedly stole from neighboring ranchers. I saw for myself the rebranding process. I was forced into helping on more than one occasion.’ It’s signed ‘Tom Hansen.’
“He used to be your neighbor. Anything to say for yourself, Campion?”
Charles’s hold on Molly tightened. She knew he was angry.
“That little pissant Hansen died in jail. That’s a forgery, and you know it.”
Buck shook his head. “ ’Fraid not. It was signed in the presence of the sheriff and two of his deputies.” He gave him a knowing smile. “You didn’t have him killed soon enough, Campion.”
“That’s bullshit, Randall, and you know it. I was nowhere near that jail,” he snarled.
“I didn’t say you did it yourself. I think we can all agree that you paid someone else to do it.” Buck was silent for a moment, then added, “Isn’t that the dirty little way you do business?”
Charles pressed his arm across Molly’s windpipe, nearly cutting off her air. “Watch what you say, breed. It would be all too easy for me to snap the squaw’s neck.”
Molly’s stomach quivered. How things had changed. Less than five months ago, he’d put her on a pedestal, begging her to have his children. Now, she knew she was of no further use to him. He’d called her a squaw, denigrating her to what he felt was the lowest possible level of womanhood. To him, a whore was more useful.
Buck dangled the paper. “Snap her neck, you bastard, and this piece of evidence is entered against you.”
Charles gave him an evil chuckle. “She means that much to you, does she?”
Buck gave him a careless shrug. “Personally, she doesn’t mean jackshit to me, Campion.”
Molly cringed, his words hitting her like a physical blow. She hoped it was just a ploy, but she didn’t know for sure. For all she knew, Buck had gotten sick and tired of hauling her sorry butt out of trouble.
“Then why do you care what happens to her?”
Buck shifted the rifle, resting it across his knee. With casual nonchalance he removed his hat, wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt, and settled his hat back on his head. “I know her ma, Campion. She’s a special friend of mine. I’ve promised to get the girl back home, where she belongs. Nothing more.”
Molly’s stomach continued to sink. She wanted to believe he was just saying this, that it wasn’t really the truth at all. But she was afraid it was just her heart creating a false hope, overriding her sensible mind.
“So,” Campion said nastily, “you screwing the mother, or what?”
Molly had the violent urge to shove her heel into her ex-fianceé’s groin, but his arm was so tight against her windpipe, she was afraid to move. She watched Buck, waiting f
or his answer, seething inwardly.
Buck looked away, appearing thoughtful. Molly knew that kind of crack would cut Buck deeply. She knew he loved her mother, and she knew exactly how he loved her. Charles’s vile remark had to be hard for Buck to swallow.
After a long sigh, he said, “I’ll forget you said that, you dirty sack of shit.”
Charles squeezed her throat so hard, she yelped and her eyes began to water. “I don’t like being made a fool of, Randall.” He moved his weapon, pointing toward the cliffs. “I can kill the bitch and have you dead at the drop of a hat at the same time. The cliffs are full of my men, just waiting for me to give them the signal to fill you full of holes.”
With frantic urgency, Molly searched the hills. Her stomach ached when she saw a few heads pop up from behind rock formations. Lord, Buck wouldn’t have come out here alone, would he, expecting to take Charles by himself? A tiny voice told her he wouldn’t; a louder one screamed that he would.
“Molly,” Buck said quietly. “I’m sorry things turned out this way. I tried, and I’ve failed.”
Her heart flew up, hovering in her chest like a wild bird. He wasn’t going to try anything. He wasn’t going to do anything. Suddenly she heard croaking, gasping sounds, and she realized they were her own.
“I just want you to do one thing for me, Molly. Molly? Are you listening to me?”
She blinked, trying to put his face in focus. “Y-yes,” she answered, the sound barely audible.
“Get on with it, Randall,” Charles shouted impatiently.
Buck ignored him. “I want you to remember the time I hauled you out of that barn, when I caught you kissing that homely, snaggle-toothed runt from Pine Valley. Do you remember, Molly?”
In spite of her diminished ability to breathe, she wanted to lunge at Buck and claw his eyes out. What was he doing, dragging out her foolish antics in front of a man who would just as soon cut her throat as look at her?
“You … you bastard,” she croaked, pressing dangerously hard against Charles’s forearm.
“Molly, shut up and think.”
Furious, Molly thought back to that fateful day. She’d been so angry that Buck had tracked her down, when he pulled her to her feet, she … she’d bit him! Blood zinged through her veins. A burst of energy replaced her fury. She knew what he wanted her to do, yet with Charles’s arm where it was, she couldn’t do it.
“Ch-Charles,” she rasped. “I can’t breathe.”
“I don’t really give a damn,” he snarled.
Her wrists were bound behind her back. With her good hand, she stiffened her fingers, then dug furiously at his groin. The moment he reacted, she sank her teeth into his forearm, further crippling him. As she hurled herself to the ground and rolled away, she heard a shot, and Charles stumbled forward, clutching his chest.
Through a fuzzy red-dusted haze, she saw Buck standing over him. In another instant, the area was crawling with the cavalry. Pulling herself to her knees, she watched as more soldiers filtered down from the rocks, shoving at gunpoint all of the men Charles had planted there.
Weak, she sank to the ground and watched Buck drag Charles to his feet. There was already a wide circle of blood on his shirt, not to mention the blood she’d drawn with the ragged bed slat.
“God,” Charles mewled. “I’ve been shot, dammit. I’ll get you for this, Randall.”
“Like you got my old friend Scully?” Buck’s anger was barely leashed.
Charles tried to laugh, but he coughed instead, the exertion making him double over. “That old fart? He had a big mouth, Randall. A big, big mouth. He didn’t … have to … die, you know,” he said, the words coming in gasps. “But … but he wouldn’t shut … shut up. The old geezer wouldn’t shut up.” He panted and groaned, sinking to his knees in front of Buck.
Sage helped Molly to her feet and untied her wrists. “Are you all right, ma’am?”
She nodded, gently rubbing each chafed wrist. She looked at Buck, hoping for some little sign from him that now everything would be all right. He ignored her. Totally. Completely. She might as well not even have been there.
“Ma’am?”
Blinking furiously, she turned as Sage stood beside a small buggy.
“Can I give you a ride back to the ranch?”
The awful, disgusting urge to bawl crammed the back of her throat. “Yes,” she was able to get out. What else could she do? She would never beg any man for his affections. It was clear to her that whatever she’d felt she and Buck had, was completely one-sided. It had only been her foolish heart that had imagined there ever would be something more.
With a weary sigh, she allowed Sage to help her into the buggy. Closing her eyes, she leaned back against the seat and wondered when the sadness inside her would get so big, her body would just cave in around it.
Eighteen
She wandered through the big, opulent rooms, remembering how naive she’d been the day she arrived. How anxious and excited she’d been to have all of these beautiful and expensive “things” to one day call her own. She knew better now, painful as it had been to learn. Everything Charles had stood for was wrong. But even if he’d been an honest man without prejudices, she knew she wouldn’t have been able to marry him. She’d never loved him. And if she’d learned one thing from this mess, it was that marriage without love was a waste of precious time. Life was just too short. However, she wondered if it was also a precious waste of time to pine away for a love that didn’t love you back.
Finding herself in the salon, she went to the piano and sat down on the bench. She stared at the inscribed Stein-way, drew in a breath and bravely poised her fingers over the keys. Clumsy strains of a soft Brahms lullaby wafted into the air, and she expelled a groan and stopped the melody, smashing the keys with her fists.
Tears came. Honest, painful tears that had nothing to do with self-pity, but everything to do with loss. Loss of everything she’d worked so hard to achieve—her ability to play. It had always been one of the strongest forces in her life. It wouldn’t be easy to cope with, but she was sensible enough to know that even if she forced herself to practice, the bones in her wrist were healing wrong, and she would never play as she had before.
She got up swiftly and hurried from the room. She knew the feeling wouldn’t last forever, but for now, she didn’t even want to look at the piano. Just as she didn’t want to look at or think about Buck. Why deepen the wounds? It did no good. It only made everything worse.
She entered the kitchen and was fixing herself a cup of tea when Nicolette hurried in the back door. They stood and stared at one another. Finally, Nicolette asked, her voice soft and breathless, “Is it true? They’ve arrested Charles?”
Molly sat down at the table with her tea and gave the girl a silent nod.
Nicolette moved around the room in a daze. “I can hardly believe it. What’s going to happen now?”
Molly toyed with the handle on the cup. “What do you want to happen?”
“I … I don’t know. Chelsea’s folks said that if Charles goes to prison, the ranch … everything is mine.” She gave Molly a look of panic. “What am I supposed to do with it?”
Molly took a sip of her tea, studying the girl over the rim of the cup. It sounded like an awful burden to place on such a young girl. “What do you want to do?”
Nicolette stared out the window and toyed with a plump golden blond curl that hung over her shoulder. “Chelsea’s dad suggested I find someone to run the place for me,” she said on a sigh. “I don’t even know who to trust after everything that’s happened.”
“There are a few you can trust, you know that,” Molly answered, not willing to mention names.
She nodded. “Yes, Buck and Sage. I know.” Sighing again, she left the window and plopped herself down next to Molly at the table. “Did you know that Sage is with the army? I didn’t know that. He suspected Charles all along, that’s why he was here.” She was quiet, stud
ying the print on the oilcloth that covered the table. “I can’t ask him. He already has a job.”
“And … and Buck?” Molly held her breath. For what reason, she couldn’t say. She knew he would be the best man for the job, but she also knew it meant she’d never see him again.
“Yes, Buck. I guess if I’m expected to do something, I’ll start with him. Gosh,” she said, frowning, “I hope he’ll stay, at least for a while. Angelita will stay, and I really wish Carmen and Estella would come, too. I think they will, if Charles goes to jail.”
She gave the room a wistful look. “It’s such a big house, and there’s so much to do. I’ve just started to realize how much of a burden Charles put on Angelita. She’s always done the work of four women around here.” She looked up, embarrassed. “It was while I was staying at Chelsea’s that I realized how many women it took to run the house of a big ranch.” She was quiet for a moment, then added, “I don’t even know how to do the wash. I’ve never ironed or even cooked.”
“Don’t punish yourself, honey. You’ve been away at school. You can’t be expected to know these things.”
She hung her head, unmoved by Molly’s words. “I’ve been no help at all. In fact, I’ve been blind to everything but my own selfish little needs. But that’s going to change. I’m going to do everything I can to help, and if Buck will take the job of managing the ranch, I’ll give him free reign to hire whomever he chooses. I trust him, Margaret.” She laughed pensively. “I trust him more than I ever trusted my own brother, and that’s sad. Really sad.”
Even though Molly’s stomach caved in at Nicolette’s announcement, she was proud of how much the girl had grown up over the entire affair. Still, she felt those godawful tears press into her throat. “Yes,” she managed to say. “He’s the best choice.”
She glanced at Nicolette, noting her healthy, pink complexion. “Have you been feeling better these days?”
Nicolette smiled, her face aglow. “Oh, yes. Much.”
“Are you going back to school in San Francisco?”
Forbidden Moon--The Moon Trilogy--Book Three Page 26