Heat of a Savage Moon--The Moon Trilogy--Book Two

by Jane Bonander

  Rachel dropped off her payment at the bank, then returned to the office. She was numb. She’d thought she’d put all feelings for Jeremy behind her, but she’d never get used to hearing about his infidelity. It was so very much against everything she’d ever been taught. And it all just went to prove what a gullible, naïve woman she’d been. That she hadn’t been laughed out of town was a surprise. There was no doubt about it. When Karleen’s pregnancy began to show, Rachel would have to leave. That was something she didn’t think she could abide. Karleen wouldn’t hide the identity of the father. In fact, Rachel felt sure that Karleen would advertise it.

  She dropped into a chair by the stove and curled her feet under her. With her chin resting on her fist, she stared into the fire. She heard the front door open, but didn’t have the strength or inclination to get up.

  Jason walked into the room. “Rachel? Is something wrong?”

  It wouldn’t be easy to leave him, Rachel thought, but she would if it came to that.

  “Karleen’s pregnant.”

  Cursing, he crossed to where she sat. “I’m sorry. Who told you?”

  She expelled a tired sigh. “I overheard her telling her father.” She stole a glance at Jason. “When she came in here with the fever, I thought she was a saloon girl. I didn’t know she was Mr. Justice’s daughter. You didn’t tell me.”

  He swore again. “I thought everyone knew. Come here,” he added, pulling her out of the chair and holding her.

  She stood in his embrace, limp and lifeless. “I could have dealt with his infidelities—eventually. But he told her he’d never slept with me. Can you imagine? Good Lord, Jason, what if she tells the world?”

  He put her away from him so he could look at her, “Do you really care?”

  Rachel shrugged out of his embrace and walked to the window. “I don’t know. I… I just don’t know how to feel. He was my husband, ‘for better or for worse.’ ” She shook her head. “How am I supposed to feel?”

  She sensed him behind her. His body heat was welcome, but she couldn’t look to him for answers or support. She had to work this out for herself. His hands came around and tenderly gripped her waist.

  “No,” she said softly, pulling his hands away. Turning to face him, she saw the cloaked look of pain on his face. Oh, God, she didn’t want to hurt him, but she had to do this by herself. “I’m sorry. I… I just have to be alone for a while. If… if you don’t need me, I think I’ll go back to Ivy’s.”

  Pulling himself up straight, he nodded briskly. “Of course. Take all the time you need. As you can see,” he added, giving the office a scornful look, “I don’t really need you here.”

  Knowing she’d hurt him, yet unable to make it right, she slipped into her cape and hurried down the street to the cafe, and her room—and isolation.

  Chapter Twelve

  Jason dropped off some papers at the bank, continuing to brood about Rachel’s earlier behavior. He tried to understand what she was going through, but knowing what Weber had done to her, Jason was hard-pressed to understand why she was grieving. To him, Karleen’s pregnancy had nothing to do with Rachel. After all, Weber had never even slept with her. In Jason’s book, that made Weber the biggest fool on the face of the earth. How he could have wanted Karleen when he had Rachel made no sense.

  Jason had known Karleen for many years, ever since she moved to Pine Valley from New Orleans with her father. She was pretty, but there’d always been something about her that bothered him. She’d been a selfish little brat, for one thing. For another—she had a bland, unpleasant personality.

  So Jeremy Weber’s preference made no sense to Jason. And considering all of this, he felt Rachel was wasting unnecessary energy and emotion on her late husband and his mistress.

  As he made his way back to his office, he stopped to observe the train pulling into the station. Ever since the iron horse had made its way west, he’d been fascinated by every aspect of it. As a boy, he’d been especially excited by the wailing of the whistle, the sound dropping in tone as it sped into the distance. And the power in the driving wheels had always intrigued him. Now, the engine chugged and hissed as it rested, occasionally sending great plumes of smoke billowing into the air.

  He watched the passengers disembark. There weren’t many. Pine Valley wasn’t a very populous town. A woman and a child were met by a man Jason recognized as a rancher from the south of town. The owner of the mercantile debarked carrying a heavy satchel. Several other people followed.

  As he turned to continue his walk back to his office, he glanced at the man stepping from the observation car. He did a double take. The man was a soldier—an officer—in the U.S. Cavalry. Jason’s gaze moved slowly to his face.

  His stomach dropped and nausea filled his chest. All of the devices he’d used over the past fifteen years to protect himself suddenly fell away, leaving him vulnerable. His heart pumped, filling his arteries with venom-tinged blood and his chest stung as if the wounds he’d lived with over the years had just been inflicted.

  Staggering back into the dim light of a doorway, he closed his eyes and brought his hand to his face. Suddenly everything was fresh, clear and vividly real. He was fifteen years old again…

  “Take the buckboard, Two Leaf,” his mother had said, a worried frown on her face. “I asked June to pick the wild berries near Sky’s place, but I have an awful feeling she’s down by the river.”

  Two Leaf turned away before she saw his look of distaste. The buckboard! That was a rig for farmers and women. He hurried to the stable and leaped onto the back of his bay, Cassius. Leaning over the animal’s neck, he gave it a fierce hug. A gift from his father, Cassius was probably the closest thing he had to a friend and confidant.

  “Why would I take that dumb buckboard when I have you?” he crooned into the animal’s mane. In return, the horse whickered and flung his beautiful head high as if to preen for his master.

  They left the stable by the back entrance, just in case his mother was watching. If June was swimming, Two Leaf thought, racing onto the path that led to the river, she could just as easily ride home behind him on his horse as beside him on the stupid buckboard.

  As he approached the swimming hole, he heard a scream. Frightened, he reined in Cassius, moving his gaze thoroughly from side to side, alerting himself to danger like his father had taught him.

  “June?” His voice cracked with fear, and he sounded like Cub. Clearing his throat, he tried again. “June?” That was better. He was a man. He wasn’t a whining little boy.

  No answer. Topping the rise, he looked into the river. June wasn’t there. Suddenly he heard the scream again.

  “No! Stop it! Ouch, you’re hurting me. You have to stop it!”

  The hair on Two Leaf’s neck crested with fear. “June?” His voice was high again, exhibiting the panic he felt. Now he didn’t care. Leaping from his horse, he tossed the reins into the bushes. Racing over the rise, he skidded down the embankment toward the river, tumbling the last few yards. He quickly righted himself, and what he saw brought him up cold. Fear, panic, and fury rushed over him like a runaway train.

  “Hey!” he shouted at the soldiers. “You get away from her!” He ran toward them, leaping onto the back of the big blond one who held June down.

  “Son of a bitch,” the soldier snarled. “Get him off me.”

  The other soldier, who had been holding June’s arms, left and tried to pull Two Leaf off his companion’s back.

  “Come on, you little savage.” He laughed as he flung Two Leaf onto his back. “Go scalp someone else. Leave us to our fun.”

  The harsh contact with the ground knocked the wind out of him. Gasping for breath, he watched as the soldier, his blue trousers down around his knees, forced himself into June.

  “J-June,” he gasped, trying desperately to breathe.

  “Two Leaf!” She was crying. “Get him away! Ouch! It hurts.”

  He heard a loud crack,
then a whimper from June. Driving to his feet, he lunged at the rapist’s back. The other soldier swore again and tore him off, sending him flying backward once again.

  “Goddammit!” roared the rapist. “I can’t do anything if that little bastard’s gonna pester me. Knock him out or something. Kill him—just keep him away from me!”

  Two Leaf staggered to his feet, wishing he’d brought his knife. Hate, strong and vile, filled his chest. He’d kill them. They were hurting June. He had to stop them.

  He picked up a stick and plunged back into the foray, smacking the makeshift whip wildly against the attacker’s back. He was pulled off again. This time he was whacked across the face so hard he saw stars.

  “What in the hell is going on here?”

  The voice came from behind him. Still nursing his jaw, Two Leaf looked around and saw a big, imposing soldier with flame-red hair sitting on a grand chestnut Morgan. The soldier had Cassius in tow.

  “What’re you doin’ with my horse?”

  The man with hair of fire looked at him as though he were less than human. “This animal doesn’t belong to you, savage.”

  Fresh anger surged through Two Leaf. “He does! He’s mine!”

  One of the other soldiers laughed. “He probably stole it.”

  Two Leaf whipped around and stared at him. “I didn’t. He’s mine. My father gave him to me—”

  “Shut up, boy,” ordered the red-haired officer.

  Two Leaf scooted away from the prancing hooves, keeping a close eye on the soldier. He was older than the others. No doubt he was in charge.

  “I repeat, gentlemen, what’s going on here?”

  “Just havin’ a little fun, sir.”

  The soldier who had hit him strolled over and examined Two Leaf’s horse. “Nice animal, sir. We gonna keep him?”

  Two Leaf lunged at him but was quickly shoved to the ground. Tasting fear and hatred in his mouth, he glanced at June, who looked as though she’d fainted.

  “Who’s this?” The officer on horseback nodded toward Two Leaf.

  “Some little half-breed.” The rapist giggled. “Tried to save the digger squaw.”

  Two Leaf swallowed the bile that pushed into his throat. Again, he looked at the man in charge. “She’s my—”

  “Shut up, you dirty little savage.” The officer’s face reflected the distaste in his voice.

  As he scooted farther back toward the water, Two Leaf knew he was in trouble, but he refused to give in. “They hurt her—”

  “You done with her?” the officer interrupted.

  The attackers looked down at June, revulsion replacing the lust Two Leaf had seen there earlier. “Yeah, we’re done.”

  “Grab the breed,” the officer ordered.

  The attackers cackled with glee. “Yessir!”

  Two Leaf tried to get away, but the men gripped his arms and dragged him toward the officer’s horse. One of them whipped out a rope and bound his ankles, leaving him defenseless.

  “Take off his shirt and hold his arms.”

  He was held, crucifixion-style, while his shirt was ripped from his body. He looked up at the officer and knew he’d never forget him. Not if he lived forever.

  He was a big man, wide through the shoulders and chest. His hair was so red, Two Leaf wouldn’t have been surprised if it had caught fire. And he had that funny beard that grew from his sideburns, down to his jaw, then across his chin. His facial hair was redder than the hair on his head. No, Two Leaf wouldn’t forget him.

  Unable to curb his emotions, Two Leaf flung a mouthful of spit at the man. It missed his face, landing instead on his highly polished black boot.

  “You dirty little savage,” the officer growled. He pulled out his bullwhip and, without warning, launched into a rabid attack of violent flicks across Two Leaf’s chest.

  Refusing to cry out, Two Leaf clamped his jaws together and gritted his teeth.

  “Hit him till he squeals, Lieutenant!”

  “No one,” the red-haired lieutenant bit out between lashes, “especially a filthy little half-breed, spits at me and gets away with it.”

  Two Leaf’s strength waned. His knees gave way, and he sagged between the two men who held him. His chest stung, the pain sinking deep into his flesh and beyond, into his soul.

  The lieutenant stepped closer and grabbed his hair, pulling his head back so hard, his neck nearly snapped.

  “You take a good look at me, savage.”

  Two Leaf returned the hateful, heated gaze. He stared mutinously into the officer’s face, memorizing it. He didn’t ever want to forget it.

  “Have you taken a good look, half-breed?”

  Two Leaf didn’t respond. He only stared.

  “Don’t you ever forget what I look like, boy. I will always be your superior. In every way. Do you understand?”

  Two Leaf didn’t move. He didn’t even blink.

  “I said,” he roared, his nostrils flaring and his eyes bulging with anger, “do you understand?”

  Two Leaf’s stubborn, fierce pride kept him from being sensible. Gathering spit in his mouth again, he flung it at the officer’s face. He must have bitten his tongue, because the saliva that hung from the officer’s chin hairs was streaked with blood.

  Hate, so strong it had an odor, emanated from the officer’s body. “Hold him up. I’m not through with him.”

  Pain, absolute and uncompromised, tore Two Leaf from consciousness. The next thing he remembered, he was home, the doctor and his mother hovering over him…

  Two sharp blasts from the train whistle sliced through his memory and his pain. Glancing at the observation car, he realized the officer, no longer a lieutenant, but a captain now, had gone. So. You’ve come at last, you arrogant bastard.

  A grimace tugged at the corners of Jason’s mouth. The man had aged well. Still tall and wide through the shoulders, he exuded power—and evil. His hair had faded with age. But that was all that had faded. Jason’s memory was as keen and sharp as ever. The incident could just as well have happened yesterday.

  Shoving himself away from the door, he made his way to his office. His thoughts were scabs, covering a hazardous gash. Now, the crusty sores cracked a little and the wound underneath started to bleed.

  As he staggered inside, Buck greeted him. “Jesus. You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”

  Jason sucked in his breath, just now realizing how much the memory had taken out of him. “More like the devil, Buck. More like the face of the devil.”

  Rachel scraped the remains of the roast beef lunch from the plates into a small bucket for Nancy’s dog. Since Jessie had come down the flue, Rachel had tried to make Nancy’s job a little easier. Although she seemed pleased with the help, she said little to Rachel.

  “We were awfully busy, weren’t we?” she asked genially.

  Nancy shrugged. “No busier’n usual.”

  “I… I guess I’m just not used to it.”

  Nancy didn’t answer. Rachel looked up and saw Nancy’s gaze, black and hard, focused on something behind her.

  “Nancy, what’s—”

  “Rachel?”

  Rachel’s heart plunged to the floor. Her hands shook so hard she almost dropped the dish she was holding. Swallowing repeatedly, she put the dish into the dishpan. She knew that voice. She’d hoped she’d never have to hear it again.

  “Have you stooped to scullery work?”

  She swallowed again and took a deep breath before turning to face her father-in-law. “Captain,” she said, forcing a smile as she smoothed her hair from her face. “You’re… you’re finally here.” Standing over the stove had caused her to perspire, and she knew her hair was in tight, messy ringlets near her face. “I thought you’d come sooner.”

  His arrogant gaze roamed over her. “Have you no embrace for a bereft father?”

  Guilt wiggled over her skin. “Of course,” she answered, wiping her hands on her apron as she me
t him on the other side of the counter.

  Instead of hugging her, August Weber held her away from him. “Let me look at you.”

  At some point in her life, she’d have been embarrassed for looking unkempt in front of him. Even though she’d felt inferior from the day she’d married Jeremy, she’d always tried to keep herself neat and clean. Now, with her hair undoubtedly looking like a rat’s nest and her apron soiled with the remnants of a beef and gravy lunch, she knew she looked like something the cat had dragged in. She didn’t care, and that sent a tiny bit of elation scampering over her apprehension.

  “You’ve changed, somehow.”

  Shock burst inside her, sending a shower of fear through her. Yes, she had changed, but surely he couldn’t see her feelings.

  “I… I don’t see how—”

  He gripped her to him, the embrace such a surprise she couldn’t speak.

  “I’ve lost my son, but I still have you.”

  Rachel frowned into his chest. This wasn’t the man she’d known. The man she’d known hadn’t spoken a civil word to her the entire two years she and Jeremy were married.

  Pushing herself away, she asked, “What are you planning to do?”

  He sighed, dropped into a chair, and ran his fingers through his faded red hair. For a fleeting moment he almost looked beaten. Glancing around the cafe, he appeared to take note of the few occupied tables toward the back. “Come here,” he ordered softly.

  Slowly, Rachel sat down across from him.

  “Someone murdered my son… your husband, Rachel. And the law in this town is so damned incompetent, they haven’t come up with a clue.” He glanced furtively around the room. “I’m here to find the bastards who did this to us,” he whispered fiercely. Sitting back in his chair, he studied her. “You’ve lived here a few months now. It pleases me to know you didn’t run like a scared rabbit.”

  He leaned toward her as if they shared a common secret. “You’ve come to know these people. I can trust your judgment. We will catch the savages who killed our Jeremy.”