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Apache-Colton Series

Page 87

by Janis Reams Hudson


  A cold feeling of dread washed over Matt. “You got something to say, shik’is, brother, then say it.”

  “I say you’re not going after her.”

  “The hell I’m not. I’m damn sick and tired of having her run off and hide every time something upsets her. She and I have unfinished business to discuss.” He wasn’t sure just how he would handle that business. He intended to talk to Joanna himself about her calling Rena her mother. He couldn’t let Serena leave this way. He couldn’t let her hurt.

  “Leave her alone, goddammit. You know good and well the only time she runs and hides, as you put it, is when she hurts so much she can’t take any more.” Pace glared at the brother he’d always looked up to, the brother he’d always trusted, and felt the rage and betrayal well in his chest. “What did you do to her this time, damn you?”

  Matt’s face looked like it was carved from granite, except for the muscle ticcing along his jaw. The scar on his cheek turned red. His gaze wouldn’t meet Pace’s.

  “Christ!” Pace cried. “I should have known better than to let her go to Tombstone. She never did have any sense when it came to you.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t play dumb with me. You know damn well she thinks she’s in love with you.”

  The look of stunned horror on Matt’s face, his sudden pallor, brought a sharp bark of harsh laughter from Pace. “You didn’t know!” he crowed. “The great know-it-all Matt Colton can’t tell when a girl’s in love with him. Well, what do you know about that?”

  “No!” Matt protested. “You’re wrong. She can’t be.”

  “I wish to hell I was. She’s had her sights set on you since we were kids. I thought everything was going to be fine when Angela came along. And it was, ‘til Tombstone.”

  Matt turned and headed for his saddle. “I’ve got to talk to her.”

  “Don’t, Matt. Leave it be. What are you planning to do, ride up to her and ask her if it’s true? Leave her alone. Give her some time to herself. She’s spent the last three years looking after Joanna like the girl was her own. Then she spent weeks with you in Tombstone. She hasn’t had one minute to herself since she was sixteen. Give her a little room, Matt. Besides,” he added, “you’ll only embarrass her if she finds out you know.”

  Matt gripped the saddle until his knuckles turned white. It was all he could do to keep his voice steady when he said, “I can’t let her hurt because of me, Pace. I can’t.”

  “I don’t know what’s been going on between you two, if anything, but give her a few days, at least. And for God’s sake, when she comes home, don’t tell her what I’ve said.”

  “Thanks,” Matt said sarcastically. “But I’m not quite that stupid, little brother. I think you’re just trying to save your own hide.”

  “Damn right,” Pace said with a tight grin. “She finds out I opened my mouth, she’d make what you did to Scott look like some sort of beauty treatment compared with what she’d do to me.”

  Matt purposely let the mention of Abe Scott distract him. He’d never talked with Pace about what happened down in Mexico, and it was long past time he did. “About Scott.”

  “What about him?”

  “I…I’m sorry you had to see all that,” Matt said with a wave of his hand. “I shouldn’t have…”

  “Shouldn’t have what? You don’t mean you shouldn’t have killed the bastard?” Pace demanded. “Everything you did, he had coming to him, and more.”

  Matt shook his head. “I shouldn’t have done it in front of you.”

  “Hell, Matt, what does that have to do with anything? The only thing you shouldn’t have done was let that buzzard bait off so damn easy.”

  Easy? Good God. And here he’d been thinking for months that what Pace had seen in the hidden canyon had upset him. Matt shook his head again.

  “Like I said,” Pace muttered. “Serena will make all that look tame if she knows I’ve opened my mouth.”

  “Just why did you tell me?”

  A cold, hostile mask settled over Pace’s face. If it weren’t for the blue eyes, Matt would have sworn he was looking at a full-blooded, hate-filled, Chiricahua warrior.

  “So there wouldn’t be any more scenes like the one last night out in the courtyard, you bastard.”

  Serena would rather have avoided having Caleb join her at all, much less ride with her in the buggy, but she merely shrugged. What could it hurt? Maybe he was just the thing she needed to take her mind off her troubles. He was friendly, cheerful, and totally harmless.

  “You’ll have to get back on your horse before we reach town,” she warned him jokingly. “After all, a single girl has her reputation to uphold. If we were seen together in this buggy, the gossip would start before we passed the first house. By the end of the day the whole town would have us marching down the aisle within the week.”

  Caleb laughed and joined her on the padded leather seat. “Actually, I really was looking for you,” he said, taking the reins from her hands and urging the horse forward.

  “Why?”

  “You left Tombstone so sudden-like, then, the next day Matt did the same thing. I guess I just wanted to make sure everything was all right.”

  “Thank you for your concern, Caleb. I appreciate it, and I’m sure Matt does, too, but everything’s fine. I hate it that you made such a long trip just because of us.”

  “It was worth it.” He gave her a smile. “I got to see you, didn’t I?”

  Serena cocked her head and looked at him in confusion. He was starting to sound almost forward. That was something new. Had he just been on his best behavior in Tombstone? Or had she somehow mistakenly encouraged him?

  “Besides,” he said, “my business in Tombstone was finished. It was time to move on.”

  The buggy rattled on down the road, dust curling up in plumes behind it. The sun rose higher. Caleb plied Serena with questions about Tucson. It was a full minute after he pulled off the road and headed for the trees before she realized what he’d done.

  She tensed. “What are you doing?” she asked sharply.

  “There’s something over here I want to show you. It’s not far.”

  “Caleb, I seriously doubt there’s anything in this entire territory you could show me that I haven’t already seen at least a dozen times. I’d appreciate it if you’d turn around and get back on the road. I have an appointment in town. I don’t want to be late.”

  “In a minute,” he said easily.

  “Give me the reins, Caleb.”

  He only smiled and kept driving. Irritated, but not yet angry or frightened, Serena made a sudden grab for the reins.

  Caleb, however, was faster. He grabbed both her hands in one of his. “Just take it easy. We’re almost there.”

  He drove the buggy in a straight line due south from the road. Serena knew that if she’d been looking behind her, the road would have disappeared several minutes ago.

  Anger simmered in her veins. Just who did he think he was, dragging her off this way? And what kind of idiot was she to have allowed it?

  He hadn’t said anything in quite a while, and that worried her. So did the confident look on his face. Her anger slowly seeped away, to be replaced by a strong sense of unease.

  This is ridiculous, she chided herself. Toss him out on his ear and turn this damned buggy around.

  Just then it seemed that Caleb was willing to cooperate with her wishes, for he guided the buggy around a scraggly clump of cedars and pulled to a halt. He reached across her and tied the reins to the whip, which still rested in its socket near Serena’s right knee.

  Good, she thought as he stepped down from the buggy. She reached for the reins herself, intent on getting out of these trees, away from Caleb, and back on the road.

  Caleb leaned into the buggy and place a hand boldly on her left knee. “Leave them,” he said, indicating the reins.

  The look she gave him as she glanced up from where his hand now squeezed her thigh was cold eno
ugh to freeze milk. She’d used that look before on men, always with the results she desired.

  But not this time. Caleb’s eyes blazed and his lips parted in a leering grin. His face took on characteristics she’d never noticed before. He’d always been polite, friendly, and smiling. There was nothing polite or friendly about this smile, however. Suddenly he looked hard, determined…dangerous.

  Serena’s throat tightened. There was something going on here—something she didn’t understand, didn’t want to under­stand. It was past time to leave.

  Without warning, she knocked his hand from her leg and reached again for the reins. Again she wasn’t fast enough. Caleb grabbed her by the arm and yanked her across the seat until her face was only inches from his. “I said leave them.”

  He stepped back and jerked her hard. As he did, she reached with her free hand for something to hang on to, but caught only her drawstring purse. She managed to loosen the opening and slip her hand inside the bag. Gritting her teeth in determination, she clasped her hand around the cool, smooth butt of her mother’s two-shot derringer.

  Her thigh hit the front wheel hard. She winced. But she couldn’t grab the seat with her free hand, couldn’t stop him from pulling her out of the buggy without letting go of the gun. That, she refused to do. When her feet finally hit the ground, he jerked on her arm again and she stumbled into him. The back of her skirt ripped where it snagged on the wheel.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.

  Caleb’s grin broadened. “I’ve got some unfinished business in these parts, and you’re gonna help me finish it.”

  She shook her right hand twice and the purse fell away. “That’s what you think, mister.” She swung the little double-barrelled pistol up to point directly in his face.

  For one brief instant, Caleb froze, his eyes wide with disbelief. Then in a flash, his hand came up with a chopping blow to her wrist. Serena’s hand flew up. The gun discharged, the bullet whizzing harmlessly into the air.

  Her hand felt numb and her wrist ached something fierce, but she kept a deadly grip on the derringer. One shot wasted. The next one had to count.

  When she brought the gun back down, Caleb released her other arm and grabbed her wrist with both hands. They struggled, but she was no match for his strength. He squeezed until she cried out in pain, then he squeezed some more. She never even felt her finger pull the trigger, but the gun went off, the shot embedding itself into the trunk of the nearest tree.

  He released her then and grinned. He knew the gun was empty. The fool thought that meant the fight was over. The hell it is. Serena had no intention of giving up simply because she was out of bullets. She raised her arm back and swung. He ducked. The blow she aimed at his temple landed on the top of his head instead.

  Caleb cursed, then grabbed a handful of hair beneath the brim of her bonnet and yanked. Serena winced and gritted her teeth. Her breath came in hard gasps, but fear and anger lent her strength. She whacked him on the wrist bone with her gun.

  He yowled and released her hair immediately to grasp his wrist. The grin had long since disappeared from his face.

  As he advanced on her, Serena stepped back. “Keep away,” she warned.

  His grin returned, evil and menacing. He took another step forward.

  Serena backed up again and felt the buggy wheel through the back of her skirt. If she could distract him, get him off guard for just a second, she might have enough time to reach the whip on the far side of the buggy. Maybe.

  Caleb chuckled. “I’ve got you now, girl.” He took another step forward.

  One more step, and he’d be close enough to grab her! Just as he shifted his weight to step again, Serena reared back and threw the derringer at his head.

  Her action took him by surprise. The little gun struck him hard on the cheek, just below his eye. The skin broke. Blood trickled down his face. His bellow of pain and rage echoed on the still morning air.

  Taking her chance, Serena spun and stretched past the front wheel, across the floorboard, until her fingers brushed the whip just below where the reins were tied. She’d have to free the knot in order to get it. Her fingers fumbled, tugging on the knot, trying to loosen it.

  The mare, nervous over all the commotion, tried to sidestep between the buggy shafts. The whole buggy jerked and shuddered. Serena’s fingers slipped from the knot. A fingernail tore loose. She swore and reached again, only to be yanked backward by a pair of hard hands on her waist. Backward, into a hard, broad chest. When her head snapped and caught him in the chin, Serena and Caleb both grunted.

  Caleb dragged her away from the buggy once more while she squirmed and fought him all the way. He managed to turn her around in his arms.

  That was his mistake.

  With no second thought, Serena raised her knee in a swift, sharp thrust and caught him right between the legs.

  Caleb screamed like a little girl and thrust Serena roughly away.

  She stumbled and fell, landing in a heap of skirts and petticoats near his feet. He crouched before her, his face pale and twisted in a grimace of pain, his hands holding his crotch, his eyes glazed.

  Serena grinned in triumph, and let her gaze fall from his as she struggled to rise.

  And that was her mistake.

  With a roar of rage, Caleb dealt her a vicious backhand across the face. Her head snapped back. She hit the ground hard. Her breath whooshed out. Blackness crept in until only two tiny points of light remained. When her vision cleared, she was staring down the barrel of a .45 caliber double-action Colt Thunderer—the same gun used these days by the U. S. Army. The hammer was back. The finger on the trigger was sweaty and tight.

  Serena froze. Her eyes widened, her mouth dried up, and her heart pounded its way into her throat.

  “Don’t move.” Caleb straightened slightly, his breath still coming in short gasps. “I like a little fight in a woman, but girl, you’ve got more than your fair share. Must be all that Apache blood, huh?”

  She felt her heart slide back down into her chest. If he wanted to talk, then he wasn’t ready to kill her. Yet. But she’d be damned if she’d let the bastard see her fear. She raised her gaze slowly to his and took a short breath. “That Apache blood will see you dead for this.”

  Maybe it was the calm, matter-of-fact tone in her voice, the confident tilt of her chin, or the ice and fire that glowed in her pale blue eyes. Maybe it was the slight smile on her lush lips. Caleb wasn’t exactly sure. But something sent a cold shaft of foreboding stabbing through his gut. A faint shadow passed before his eyes, then the brightness of the day returned, making him feel foolish for his fear.

  “Get up,” he growled.

  Serena clenched her fists. “Why should I?” If she got up now, he’d see how badly she was trembling. She couldn’t let him see her fear. It would be another weapon in his hands to be used against her at his will. “If you’re going to kill me anyway, why should I do what you say?”

  “I might kill you,” he said with a nod. “Maybe. Eventually. But I really don’t want to. Not yet. But if you don’t do like I say, I will shoot you. Not bad enough to kill you, though. Just bad enough to make you wish I had. Now, get up.”

  Serena paled at his threat. The strange light in his eyes told her he was just crazy enough to do what he said. She pushed herself to her feet, slowly, deliberately, her eyes locked on his. His hand snaked out and yanked the bonnet from her head.

  “Take off that dress,” he ordered.

  Her eyes widened. Did he mean to rape her? I’ll die first.

  When she didn’t move to obey him, he forced his fingers inside the neckline of her dress and ripped it open clear to her waist. Serena gasped.

  “Take it off, goddammit!”

  To give herself time to think, she did as he demanded. She had to find a way to either get free, or force him to kill her. She would not be raped. Not while she lived.

  When her trembling fingers had discarded the dress, he motion
ed to her petticoats with the end of his gun. She untied them and let them fall to the ground. Wearing nothing but camisole, drawers, stockings and shoes, she stepped out of the pile of white ruffles and gray serge.

  Caleb reached to the ground behind him and tossed a set of saddlebags at her feet. The gun still pointed at her. His suddenly hot eyes devoured her.

  “There’s clothes in there.” He nodded toward the saddlebags. “Put them on.”

  His gaze raked her from head to toe, making her feel naked…dirty. Cold. Minutes ago, she had been warm. Now her fingers felt like ice. She tried to control her shaking as she fought the buckle on one side of the saddlebag. When she finally had it open and pulled out the contents, she couldn’t hide her surprise. A clean, neatly folded shirt and pair of pants, large enough for two of her.

  “Not exactly the latest fashion like I’m sure you’re used to,” he told her with a sneer. “But adequate covering for those lovely limbs of yours. Put them on.”

  The shirtsleeves were so long she had to roll them up four turns just to find her hands. The pants, too, had to be rolled before she could take a step. Caleb tossed her a length of rope to use as a belt to hold the pants up.

  While she dressed, she darted nervous glances at her captor. If not murder or rape, what was he after? He never took his eyes or his gun off her for a second. She tried to act unconcerned when he circled behind her. As soon as she knotted the rope at her waist, he grabbed both her arms from behind and tied her hands behind her with rope that felt like it was embedded with cholla spines.

  In the next instant she found herself face-down in the dirt. Her breath left in an audible rush. Caleb tied her feet together at the ankles. Bound tight, trussed up like a Christ­mas goose, all Serena could do was watch while Caleb made ready to leave.

  He backed the buggy between the cedars, then camouflaged the back of it with cedar branches he must have cut earlier. Her heart knocked against her ribs at the realization that this was obviously no spur-of-the-moment abduction. He’d planned it all out. And she’d fallen into his hands like a ripe plum. She felt like an idiot. A scared idiot.

  Caleb unhitched the gray Triple C mare from the buggy. Next, he produced a worn, beat-up saddle from behind the trees and a brand new bridle from the canvas bag hanging from his saddle horn.

 

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