The Forbidden Ranch: Honor Elizabeth Wilde Tale 0f Suspense (Half Breed Haven Book 5)

by A. M. Van Dorn

  The muscles in Honor’s body tensed as she heard the blow Branch must have leveled at Josiah and the sound of him crumpling to the floor. The former overseer was raging now about how he was pretty damn good at it. She feared for Josiah but knew the only way to help him was to get out of the kitchen before she was discovered by the murderer and mount some type of rescue.

  Slowly she backed away from the stove and leaned back against the butcher block balling herself up. She would listen for a few more moments and then retrieve the knife and escape.

  ***

  Silas Branch looked down with a crooked smile on his face and liked what he saw. Henry, Cottonwood’s cook who had always been beyond his lash because he was too valuable to old Col. Dumont to be harmed. Well, Dumont was long dead, murdered by his own son, and now there was no one here to protect Henry now.

  The black man sat on the floor, his back propped up against the bed. A bruise had formed on his temple from where Branch had struck him as retaliation for using that hated nickname the cotton-picking coloreds had given him. The man’s hands were cuffed in front of him with the manacles Branch had slapped on him after he had bested him during their struggle when he had first broken into the bedroom. The ex-slave was breathing heavily and Branch could almost feel the hatred shooting out of the man like invisible arrows.

  No matter, he chuckled to himself. All was going better than he could ever have hoped. Despite Henry's best efforts he had, at last, discovered him here in Mesa Verde. Earlier he had stopped at several houses until at least one of the other coloreds unwittingly pointed him to the right house. As he had learned before coming to town, Henry was now going under the name of Josiah. It didn’t matter what he called himself. There wasn’t going to be any tombstone to put a name on.

  After he got his picture of Henry’s dead body, he would torch the place incinerating Henry’s body along with it. Branch knew Dumont would enjoy the irony in that since the Yankees had foiled his insurance scheme by burning Cottonwood to the ground destroying any evidence of how the Colonel had died, leading to Meriwether Dumont’s claim being denied.

  "On your feet, boy! I got to go get my camera so I can set it up, and I ain't letting you out of my sight ever again. You managed to escape me one time too many in the past!" With one hand he reached down and grabbed the manacles, and with the other, he kept his Colt .44 trained on his captive.

  “Let’s go!” Branch ordered as he took his place behind Josiah and began to prod him towards the door. The man he knew as Henry paused for a moment before grabbing the knob and pulling the door inward so they could leave the bedroom.

  As they stepped out, Branch’s eyes flitted around for a moment. When he had burst in and had not seen Henry standing before him, he had charged for the door to the bedroom knowing it was the only place he could possibly be. Now he was truly seeing the inside of the home for the first time. Far better than any colored deserved, he snorted, but his derision was cut short as his eyes fell on two pie plates on the butcher’s block.

  Keeping his gun on Josiah he crossed the short distance and looked down at them in a total bewilderment that deepened when he saw a woman’s dress and underwear heaped on the floor.

  “What the fuck is this all about, boy?” Still keeping his gun on Josiah, he used his free hand to scoop up the dress and his eyes suddenly lit up in amazement. That well-put-together mulatto from the hotel and the street earlier! This is what she was wearing!

  Mocking laughter filled the air as Branch tilted his head back and roared.

  “Why, Henry, you sly little devil, you! Planning on dipping into that little ol’

  inkwell tonight, were you? Sorry to ruin your plans! Where she at? She couldn't have gone far buck naked!"

  Josiah remained silent, his shoulders drooped and his head down. Branch’s hand traveling across his face made him look up as he shook his head to reorientate himself from the blow.

  “Where’s your little tar baby at?”

  With eyes ablaze, Josiah gritted his teeth hard. “She probably done run off to get the law! Ain’t nothing above board what you’re doing here tonight!”

  Unfazed, Branch continued his laughing, his large belly jiggling hideously above his belt. "Enough of this! I'll find her right quick! Like I said, she likely ain't got a stitch on. After you breathe your last, I just might have me a little fun!"

  The dress drifted to the floor, silently bunching up in a heap as he released it. With his free hand, he shoved Josiah towards the front door.

  “Open that door, and get your ass out there. I handcuffed you in front so you’d still be able to use some of your hands to help me carry in the camera gear. Me overseeing you again, just like it was always meant to be!”

  Wearily, Josiah opened the door and stepped out, followed by Branch who prodded him in the back with his pistol. Suddenly out of the corner of Branch’s eye he caught sight of a ball of fire bursting to life at the corner of the house, but there was no time to even realize he’d just walked into a trap.

  CHAPTER 6

  * * *

  A moment earlier Honor Elizabeth stood with her back pressed against the wall, just around the corner of the house, listening and waiting, but far from patiently. She had known that eventually “Halfmoon” Branch would have to come out to retrieve his camera, and she had been ready for him.

  At the sound of the door opening, she struck the match to life in one hand, stepped around the corner of the house, and then jabbed the burning piece of wood into the entire matchbox she had retrieved from Branch’s saddlebag where she had seen him return it to earlier.

  As she launched it in the air she had a split second to offer Josiah a silent apology for what was about to happen next and to have a pang of defeat stab at her soul if the burning matchbox failed to land where she had planned. Honor had earlier hurriedly emptied the entire contents of the large tin canister into a wide strip between the little wagon and the entrance to the house. Odds were in her favor it would land into the swath, but she could be gambling with their lives if she missed.

  A split second later, she did an unbridled dance in place as the makeshift torch landed in her trail of flash powder and she looked away, as for a fleeting moment night became day as it ignited.

  Both men cried out in stunned surprise as they were blinded by the explosion of light. Josiah brought his manacled hands up and covered his face as Branch bent over doing the same, albeit awkwardly as he still held his gun. Remorse for Josiah flooded over her but it was held in check by the fact she was already in motion. Plan and act girls! said Cassandra’s voice.

  Honor had scooped up the camera by its tripod of legs that were in the collapsed together position allowing her to employ it like an unwieldy club, and with all her strength she swung it at Branch.

  Unfortunately for her, he picked that moment to straighten up and turn. One very expensive camera shattered to bits as it struck the man square in his back rather than the intended target of his head. Honor’s mouth fell open as he shrugged off the blow from the camera that only seemed to knock him forward a step or two.

  She could tell the man’s vision hadn’t cleared entirely yet, but that didn’t stop him from firing his pistol blindly in her direction. His pair of wild shots missed, and Honor wasn’t going to let him take a third. Inhaling deeply and then exhaling as she yanked the knife from the sock tied to the back of her head, she let loose with two wicked slashes.

  The first hadn’t been necessary, but Honor’s skill with a knife was second to none, and she intended to use it, being a big fan of poetic justice. With an expert twist of her wrist, and in the blink of an eye, she sliced a perfect half-moon beneath his right eye, adding a mate to the one on the left. Then with her second slash, she truly got down to business and went for his gun hand.

  The night air around Josiah Daniel’s home was perforated with a howl of pain and blood as Branch let loose of his pistol, and it fell away as Honor’s knife struck home severing his pinkie. The horrible name
s that he was calling her were nothing that she hadn’t heard before, but never with such viciousness.

  With a startling swiftness perhaps born out of an arcane combination of pain and hatred, he bolted at her and with his good hand, seized her around the throat. He pushed her backward causing her to strike the front wall of Josiah’s house, and he began to squeeze mercilessly.

  Her plan had been to knock him out with the camera in order to keep him alive to face justice and perhaps be used to bring down his puppet master, Meriwether Dumont. Now Honor saw that she had little choice—it was kill the despicable brute, or die by his hands. As she was bringing the knife up, ready to deliver a fatal stab, he suddenly startled her by spitting into her eyes. The brief second of revulsion made her pause for just a second, but it was enough.

  Despite the loss of one of his fingers, he was still able to seize her wrist and squeeze that as well. As she was becoming light-headed, she watched as her own hand released the knife, and it fell away in slow motion. Honor began to see stars when suddenly she felt the pressure around her neck disappear and the grip on her wrist vanish completely.

  Collapsing to her knees, heaving to draw air back in her lungs, she watched almost as if in a dream Josiah and Branch struggling to get back on their knees to stand up. Though her mind was clouded, she knew that Josiah must have regained his vision and thrown himself against Branch to save her.

  As her haze began lifting she suddenly realized that Branch was no longer trying to get to his feet. He was still on his knees, both his good hand and his bad one feeling the darkened ground before him, searching, and the chill of dread washed over her, as she knew he was looking for his weapon.

  That was exactly what she needed, too, she knew, and she needed it right away. Once that gun was in Branch’s hand, Josiah would be dead, and she would follow in short order. Her eyes that darted about madly failed to see where her knife had gone. It was lost to her, but those same eyes fell on something else and she lunged for it.

  With a smile of pure evil, the bleeding Silas “Halfmoon” Branch rose to his feet, the confidence of having his trusty old pistol once more in his hand. The same pistol he had used to fell so many “runaways” back at Cottonwood was about to claim its final victim even if he wasn't a slave any longer. His arm was swinging up when he heard the shout.

  “Halfmoon!!!”

  As the big man spun around, Honor Elizabeth was barreling towards him with the three-legged tripod fully extended. For the second time that night she drew upon whatever reserves of strength she had within her and rammed into the murdering swine with full force.

  Branch opened his mouth to scream but could manage not a sound from the shock as the upper tripod leg penetrated deep within his chest cavity just below his breastbone. The other two legs spaced an equal distance from each other tore through his soft and ample belly mangling his insides. Honor Elizabeth yanked it back out, thankful that it had been constructed with very, very pointy ends on the legs so a photographer could easily drive it into the earth for when engaging in outdoor photography.

  She dropped it as she watched the man’s mouth frantically working to try and form words as he dropped the pistol and clutched his stomach wounds that were bubbling out a copious amount of blood, as well as the higher injury she had inflicted on him. As he pitched forward, she didn’t know which one would prove fatal and she didn’t care.

  Branch hit the ground and rolled over on his side, before coming to rest on his back. Wild, yet alert eyes looked up as Honor stood over him, joined by Josiah who looked on in astonishment. She leaned forward ever so slightly and smiled.

  “That was for Big Mike and any other poor slave you had a hand in murdering. As for your boss, if I have anything to say about it, and I most certainly will, Meriwether Dumont will never set foot in the Court of St. James.”

  It was close, but as the light went out of his eyes, she knew that he had heard her.

  CHAPTER 7

  * * *

  “There, all done.”

  Honor Elizabeth stepped back happily, satisfied with the work she had done cleaning the wound on Josiah’s head. The bruise should go down in a day or two. Both had emerged from their ordeal more or less unscathed, and for that she was thankful. The entire time she had been tending to him, Josiah could not stop expressing his gratitude and thanks for saving his life. She had tried to dismiss it by saying that he had returned the favor, but he would hear nothing of it. Now she became aware that he was a bundle of nerves. Suddenly he grabbed her wrist and began dragging her toward the bedroom.

  “Josiah, what?”

  They crossed the threshold where he released her and snatched an old travel bag out from under his bed. A moment later he was frantically rifling through his drawers grabbing different items and clothing and throwing them into the open bag on the floor.

  “Josiah! What are you doing?” her bewilderment was complete.

  “We gots to go, Miss Honor!”

  “Go where?”

  “Back on the run. Only this time you has got to come with me, ma’am!”

  She grabbed his wrists and forcibly stopped him from the ransacking of his bureau.

  “On the run? I am not going on any run! Why ever would you suggest that?”

  “Now as I said before, I am real grateful for you saving my life, but we just done killed a white man! We’ll hang for this for sure!”

  Honor felt the tension flow out of her from Josiah’s sudden and strange behavior, and she let loose with quiet laughter as he looked at her as if she had gone mad. She shook her head and then reached up and laid a hand on his face.

  “You know my story. My father is a judge. In fact, he is friends with the sheriff in this town. After I tell him what went down here, he will bring the sheriff in. It will all be fine. This was pure self-defense. Not one thing shall happen to either one of us. This I promise you, Josiah. I swear it.”

  He looked uncertain.

  “You mean it?”

  “With all certainty. Trust me. Please, Josiah, you need to relax. I truly believe that I might be able to help you with that.”

  Honor Elizabeth placed both her hands on his firm chest and pushed him slightly towards the bed. He sat down, still unsure as she moved back a bit and watched him. She beamed with an inviting half smile on her face, and her eyes still held their commanding glow. Josiah still had a look of uncertainty in his eyes, and his gaze seemed to wander far beyond hers, but not for long. Honor Elizabeth had the perfect stress reliever, one that had worked many times over; all men were the same after all; how right she was.

  "Relax, darling." Her words were soft and caressing as she stepped further backward and unbuttoned Branch's old shirt she still wore. She had his attention, she knew; she could tell by the intent look he had in his eyes.

  She shook the material free from her body and stepped over it. His eyes once more appraised her accentuated her figure as they had done so earlier when she stood wholly nude in front of the man. She heard him gulp, and then she smiled.

  "That it now, relax." She was close to him now, placing her hands on his shoulders and massaged them, feeling the tense, sinewy muscles twitch and relax; it was working. She smiled as she arched her head backward and stared at his pants.

  "We'll need those out of the way." She said and, without waiting for any form of concurrence, she ran her fingers through his ebony chest, feeling the roughness that spoke of strength and power. Honor brought them down and shoved them into his waistband, gripping it.

  "On your feet, dear sir." She cooed, and he let her pull him up by his waistband. Freeing her hands, she undid the belt of rope that secured his trousers and watched them fall to the floor.

  She let out a gasp–he was huge, and then a low chuckle. Honor Elizabeth liked her men in any way they came, but men packing what Josiah had were an extra treat.

  Honor ran the tip of her finger over the length of his now erect manhood. She then rose up and stared straight into his eyes. The lust
in there was unmistakable. She pulled his head closer towards hers, kissing his lips and stroking the hardness that was poking at her abdomen.

  "I am categorically going to enjoy this." She said and pushed him back on to the bed. She moved over him and caressed his firm thighs. The massive tool between his legs stood attentively, anticipating her touch. She got to it in no time, taking it with both hands and wrapping her lips around it.

  "Ooh!" She groaned and gagged. He was really huge. Her mind wondered, for a quick second, what it would feel like having him inside her. But just for a quick second; she'd certainly find out soon enough.

  Honor felt him grab her large breasts, squeezing and groping them gently. It sent a hot tension through her body; one that made her close her eyes and moan out loud. Not yet, she told herself.

  Moving closer to him, she straddled him, lining the head of his member with her moist entrance. She exerted a little pressure and soon he was penetrating her slowly. She felt his grip on her arm as he wriggled beneath her, still sliding into her. They were both silent, as if waiting to know her far she could take him in her.

  A groan drifted from within her when she felt him stop and then she began her own movement. He filled her up, she felt it, and it was electrifying. Holding on to his chest, she began to move her hips. Her moans were sharp and shrill, his were deep and short.

  They moved together, the frame of the bed beneath them creaked. Her hair bounced and covered her face, and her large breasts jiggled invitingly, making him squeeze them more.

  She heard him grunt and felt him lift her up.

  "Oooh, I most positively love my man to be of strength." She giggled wrapping her hands tightly around his neck as he stood firmly. He was still deep within her and he soon started moving her up and down on him. Sweat trickled down her body, mixing with his. She bit his ears softly and dragged her fingers around his back; he didn't seem to mind as he went even faster.