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

by Jane Bonander

  Us… We… Our. She felt as if she were being sucked into a vortex, unable to pull herself free. Forcing down her panic, she said, “The sheriff here is quite competent. You must ask for his help.”

  August Weber bit out an angry expletive. “That sorry excuse for a lawman? Don’t let him fool you, Rachel. I’ve already seen him.” He waved his arm, a grandiose gesture. “He’s an Indian lover. He’ll be of no use to us.”

  Us, again. Dread made Rachel’s skin crawl. He assumed she was his ally. And why wouldn’t he? Thank the Lord he didn’t know what turns her life had taken since Jeremy’s death.

  “But… but what did he tell you? Did you see his report?”

  Weber snorted. “It looks plain to me. Indians did it; Indians will be punished.”

  She couldn’t argue with him. She’d seen the Indians herself. She’d also seen Jason…

  A fresh jolt of fear rocked her. She had to hide her feelings from this man. He couldn’t know what she and Jason shared. He couldn’t know the burning love she’d experienced with him—the kind that had never been ignited by her own husband. She hoped the captain hadn’t already heard where she’d been working. Not because she was ashamed of it, but because she didn’t want him to get too close to Jason. She knew that her father-in-law was the ultimate Indian hater, and to learn that she was working for one would undoubtedly send him into a rage.

  “What of your own work in Washington? How long can you be away from it?”

  He waved away her concern. “I’ve come to find my son’s killer. I don’t think it will take long, but I’m staying as long as it takes.”

  Rachel’s heart dropped further. “Where… where are you staying?”

  He gave her a calculated look. “I’d thought to stay with you, in the cottage where you and Jeremy lived.”

  Rachel’s face reflected her dismay. “I… I’m not living there.”

  “So I understand. Why did you leave, Rachel?”

  She gave him a shocked look. “How could I stay? I was there when it happened. I saw everything. I—”

  “You saw everything?” He sat forward, obviously eager to hear more.

  “No,” she answered, suddenly flustered. “I didn’t actually see it. I mean, I was there, but… but Jeremy had… had pushed me into a crawl space next to the fireplace. I… I couldn’t see anything,” she lied.

  “We’re going back out there, Rachel.”

  She bit back a sob. “I… I don’t want to.”

  “You’ll remember something, I’m sure of it.”

  Shaking her head, she panicked. “No, please… it won’t do any good. I’ve been there. The sheriff questioned me there. He has it all in his report. There’s nothing more to say…”

  He grabbed her hands, squeezing them so tightly she almost cried out.

  “If I didn’t know better, my sweet daughter-in-law,” he began, his voice low and menacing, “I’d think you weren’t on my side.”

  Rachel gasped. Oh, God, she had to do the right thing for once in her life. Get hold of yourself. “All right,” she acquiesced. “Of course, you’re right. I’m… I’m sorry,” she said, inwardly cringing at the words she’d promised Jason she’d never use again. She had to act her part. She couldn’t let him know what was going on in her head or in her heart.

  Weber smiled, but his eyes were still cold. “That’s better. Now,” he said as he stood, “let’s visit Jeremy’s grave, then take a trip to the cabin.”

  With a quick glance at Nancy, who appeared to be busy cleaning tables, Rachel took off her soiled apron and allowed her father-in-law to slip her cape over her shoulders. As they left the cafe, Captain Weber put his arm possessively around her waist.

  Jason stood at the window and watched Rachel leave the cafe with her father-in-law. She appeared comfortable leaning against him, his arm around her, holding her close. Hate for Weber compounded his frustration and his sense of helplessness. Years ago he’d taught himself that hate weakened a man. That’s why he’d put the entire incident with Weber in the back of his mind, where it wouldn’t cripple him. Now, his insides were in turmoil again. The nausea that had coated his stomach earlier hadn’t left.

  Buck came up and stood beside him. “So, there they go,” he said, his voice filled with disdain. “Father and widow of the deceased united at last.”

  Jason ignored the sarcasm, continuing to watch them as they crossed to the waiting buggy. “She came to the ranch with me the other night.”

  “Your folks were there?”

  “Of course.”

  Buck swore. “Why would you parade her around under your father’s nose?”

  Jason continued to stare outside, even though the buggy that held Rachel and Captain Weber had clattered out of sight. “She’s not responsible for what happened to me.” He meant the words, but knowing how they’d parted, and discovering Weber’s father on the scene, he wondered where her loyalty would ultimately lie. He hoped he knew; he couldn’t be sure.

  “Father was aloof.”

  Buck looked at him. “You’re sure as hell not surprised, are you?”

  Jason shook his head. “No, but,” he repeated, “she’s not responsible for June’s condition or the scars on my chest. I didn’t expect him to take his feelings out on her.”

  “It would have been my choice.”

  Jason ignored the comment, refusing to encourage Buck’s hatred.

  “Well,” he urged, “what did he do?”

  “It wasn’t what he did. It was what he didn’t do. He was barely civil, and he stayed cloistered in the library, refusing to come out when we left.”

  Buck stepped away, as if needing to put space between them. “You sound like you think she’s innocent.”

  Jason glanced at the street, then looked back at Buck. “I don’t know what she is. But I won’t crucify her just because she married into the Weber family.”

  Buck snorted. “Your father would.”

  Jason gave Buck a look that could melt rock. “I know that’s his emotional reaction. But, unlike you, dear friend, he doesn’t go off to fight his enemy with his dick exposed.” Because Weber had nearly whipped Jason to death fifteen years ago, no one even remotely related to August Weber would ever escape his father’s hatred. But Jason knew he’d worked through it just as Jason had.

  Buck put up his hands in self-defense. “Truce, all right?”

  Jason sighed and raked his fingers through his hair. “Truce.”

  “I haven’t seen June lately. She and Ma usually weave baskets together. Has she been sick?”

  Jason stepped away from the window. “She wasn’t too good the other night. She still drifts back to that day, forgetting that Molly has become a young woman.” He remembered the faraway look in June’s eyes when he’d discovered Rachel in her room. “I’m not sure it was a good idea to let Molly go so far away. When she was home, June was fine. Almost happy again.”

  Buck let out a rush of air. “Women have a hard time separating themselves from their young. June would have given her life to save her kid, even though it was forced on her by those damned soldiers.”

  Jason gave Buck a look of surprise. Now and then he saw snatches of a real human being beneath his arrogant, swaggering exterior.

  “I think on some level she’s thanked them for it, and forgiven them.”

  “For all your smug talk, I don’t think you’ve forgiven them,” Buck remarked.

  “I thought I had,” he answered, his voice filled with self-derision. “Until today.”

  He turned, pinning Buck with a hard look. “He’s here to find the killer, you know.”

  Buck shrugged, returning Jason’s harsh gaze. “That has nothing to do with me.”

  So you’ve said, over and over again. He studied his young friend. “None of us will escape his lash. Knowing Weber, innocent men will die—”

  “And I should throw myself at his feet and admit to something I didn’t do, just to
save someone else?”

  Frustration pummeled Jason’s senses. Dammit, he wished he knew the truth.

  Buck shrugged again, suddenly appearing extraordinarily unconcerned. “Maybe he’s mellowed.”

  Jason laughed, a humorless, hollow sound. “You’re dreaming.” And so was he. He’d begun to care for Rachel, certain she felt something for him, as well. It was bad enough trying to fight the memory of a dead husband, and Karleen’s pregnancy had served to bring all of Rachel’s insecurities back to the surface. Now, with her dead husband’s father stirring up trouble, he wondered how soon it would be before she reverted to the frightened, helpless woman she’d been when they first met.

  Rachel stifled a yawn as she sat across from her father-in-law in the opulent dining room of the Corinthian Hotel. He’d summoned her to meet him for breakfast, and she tried hard to pretend she was interested in what he was saying. Of course, a man like August Weber always assumed a person was interested in his point of view, so he didn’t pay too much attention to her distracted state. She’d never been in this room before; its elegance impressed her.

  Pine Valley sported one of the finest hotels north of Sacramento. Chandeliers, dripping with crystal prisms, hung from carved ceiling medallions throughout the room. Tall, gilt-edged mirrors covered the inside wall, the reflection of light simulating another room, giving diners the feeling of illumination and space. The varnished, dark wood molding enhanced the brightly painted walls, contributing to the illusion of height. Rachel felt out of place.

  “You’re going to move from that squalid room and join me in a suite here, Rachel.”

  She pulled her gaze from her surroundings. “I… I couldn’t, Captain, really. I’m… I’m perfectly comfortable at Ivy’s.”

  He signaled the waiter. “I insist.”

  Rachel allowed him to order for her. She felt a panic so strong she couldn’t have spoken without shaking, anyway. And she knew what was happening. He was an overwhelming man, hard to argue with. He needed to be in control. If she wasn’t careful, she’d end up doing everything he asked before she even knew what had hit her.

  “Please, Captain. I… I’d prefer to stay where I am. What difference does it make?” She swallowed a shudder as he reached across the table and took her hand.

  “We’re family, Rachel. We must stick together.”

  Pretending she needed to cough, she pulled her hand away and brought it delicately to her mouth. “I’d rather stay where I am, if you don’t mind.”

  He gave her an arrogant grin. “But I do mind. Before I left, Sada told me to take good care of you.”

  She lowered her gaze to hide her eyes. Sada, Jeremy’s mother, would hardly care what became of her. In fact, when the woman had been told of Jeremy’s death, she’d probably raged for days that Rachel should have been killed instead of her son. Sada the sadist.

  “Well, then we won’t tell Sada, will we?” she said with forced levity.

  His faded red mustache twitched. “You surprise me, Rachel.”

  Taking a sip of her water, she looked at him over the top of the glass. She swallowed, the icy water sliding down her throat. “I do?”

  He sat back and examined her. “You seem different.”

  Not as easy to browbeat, you mean. She put her glass down and studied her hands. “I’ve had to learn to live on my own.” She glanced up, giving him a somber look. “I never had, you know.”

  Resting his elbows on the table, he steepled his fingers before him and continued to study her. “I’m not sure I like you this way.”

  Anger, fresh and hot, erupted in the pit of her stomach. Of course he wouldn’t like her this way. She hadn’t prostrated herself before him.

  She’d learned that her husband had fallen in love with another woman and had given that woman his seed. She’d learned that he’d been cruel to the Indians, refusing to replace their broken tools and who knows what else. She’d learned that his best friend was a nasty little rapist. And she’d learned that not all Indians were murdering savages.

  He might not like it, but she wasn’t going to wash his feet with her hair just to prove she hadn’t changed.

  “Life’s been hard, Captain. A woman alone must find her strengths or she won’t survive.”

  He quirked a bushy eyebrow at her. “Are you a woman alone, Rachel?”

  Caution numbed her. As far as she knew, no one knew about her and Jason. Not even Ivy. Reigning in her fears, she answered, “I don’t know what you mean. Of course I’m alone.”

  He gave her a hooded look. “Indeed.”

  The waiter brought their breakfast of biscuits, gravy and scrambled eggs. The food, not nearly as good as Ivy’s, gave Rachel a breather from her father-in-law’s scrutiny. She forced herself to eat, somehow knowing that she was going to need her strength to keep her distance from this man. He was accustomed to getting his own way. He was forceful, vengeful, and, on a primitive level, almost hypnotic. He would stoop to any means to get what he wanted. And right now, Rachel knew he wanted her undying allegiance.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Finally able to get away from Weber, Rachel hurried back to the cafe, bracing herself against the cold, wet wind. As she passed Jason’s office, she remembered Ivy’s broom, the one with the long handle that she’d borrowed to sweep down the cobwebs from the corners. She stepped inside and listened to the sound of the clock. The quiet, empty room saddened her, although she realized that if Jason wasn’t around, her father-in-law couldn’t harass him. But if he wasn’t around, it also meant he wasn’t expecting any patients.

  Echoing his mother’s lament, Rachel wondered for the hundredth time why the citizens of Pine Valley were such fools. Jason was a wonderful doctor. She’d known that even before she’d fallen in love with him. She smiled grimly. That was one of the reasons she had fallen in love.

  She grabbed the broom and went back outside. A commotion in front of the saloon stopped her progress toward the cafe. The sheepherders were in town, no doubt still drunk from the night before. Cautiously moving toward the fracas, she listened as the herdsmen taunted someone she couldn’t see. The wretched drunks were obviously getting a good deal of pleasure at the other person’s expense.

  There were few people on the street besides the small mob, and those who did have to pass the disturbance gave it wide berth. Rachel intended to do the same. She’d heard the terrible stories about the herdsmen, and how, after a night of imbibing in “sheepherder’s delight,” they often disgraced the community by exposing themselves to anyone who passed by. But as she approached the noisy gang, she caught a glimpse of a brightly colored skirt.

  Slowing her steps, she listened to the vulgarities being spewed at their reluctant captive, and heard the woman whimper. Briefly the circle around the woman opened and Rachel saw the person being jostled. She gasped, bringing her free hand over her mouth. It was the woman she’d met at the Gaspard home. June. Yes, it was June.

  She looked around frantically, hoping to find some help. Everyone on the street had somehow disappeared. She thought about running to the sheriff but didn’t think there was time.

  Remembering the broom she clutched in her fist, she brought it up and gripped it with both hands. Sucking in a deep breath, she boldly stepped up to one of the drunken, swaying men and smacked the handle of the broom across his back and shoulders.

  “Stop that!” Her heart lunged into her throat as the drunk turned and gave her a bleary stare.

  “Say, fellas,” he slurred, staring down at her. “We got another one here.”

  In their present state of intoxication, they were happy. They hadn’t yet turned mean. It made her brave. “You leave that woman alone, do you hear me?”

  They all laughed, the sound boisterous and raucous as they continued to fondle June.

  Rachel lunged at them again, smacking them wildly with the broom. “Leave her alone, you… you noisy, obnoxious sots!” Her adrenaline flowed; she felt strong.
And they continued to laugh at her as though what she was doing had absolutely no effect! Furious, she continued to pummel them. Their strength appeared to have been sucked from them by their lack of sleep and their level of intoxication.

  Finally able to reach June, she gave the offenders one last blow, and heard the crack of the broomstick as it broke in two. She took June’s arm and pulled her away from the staggering men, their guffaws echoing loudly behind her.

  “It’s all right,” Rachel said quietly. “They’re too drunk to hurt you.”

  Leaning on Rachel’s arm, June shuddered and closed her eyes. She shook visibly, undoubtedly from fear as much as from the cold.

  Rachel took June’s face between her palms. “June? Do you remember me?”

  Nodding, June gave her a relieved, wobbly smile. “I want to tell you something. I came to talk to you.”

  “To me?” Rachel sighed, remembering that June often wasn’t completely coherent. She played along. “All right, but first let’s get you inside where it’s warm.” She glanced around. June’s cape lay crumpled in a puddle of mud. Briskly removing her own, Rachel spread it across June’s shoulders.

  “Can you walk?” June nodded, and they made their way slowly toward the cafe. “Did you come to town alone?”

  “Joshua brought me in. I wanted to see you. Jason and Nicolas can’t know.” Her teeth chattered from the cold as she talked.

  Rachel closed her eyes and wondered who June thought she was talking to. “Joshua brought you in? Does… did his mother know you were coming?”

  “Oh, no.” June shook her head emphatically. “Anna doesn’t let me come to town without her or Sky or Shy Fawn.”

  Oh, Lord, then why was she here? “Where’s Joshua?”

  A tiny whimper slipped from June’s mouth. “He and Dusty—oh, dear. I’m not supposed to tell.”

  Rachel rolled her eyes. What a mess. “Come,” she ordered softly. “The cafe is right around the corner. At least we can get you in out of the cold.”